


On Borrowed Time

by Aisfor



Series: On Borrowed Time [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, References to Illness, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisfor/pseuds/Aisfor
Summary: Betty took a gap year for relaxation. What she didn't expect it to include, was a road trip around the country with her best friend in tow.The fact that he was on the waiting list for a heart transplant and that she's in love with him may have factored into her decision making. Just a little bit.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back. Back again. I'm back. Tell your friends! New story time, finally! Took a bit of a break, this story has been playing on my mind and I hope you all like the first chapter as it took some effort to get it out! Enjoy!

Betty gets the call coming out of a coffee shop. After a long day at her parent’s newspaper offices, she’s tired hence the coffee and itching to change out of the formal shirt, her mother insists she wears. Pulling her jacket tighter around her body to protect against the August breeze, that always came late in the month. She feels her phone chiming deep in her pockets. Sifting through various receipts from her lowly meal deals she often purchased from the nearest supermarket. She uses her teeth to shed her hand of its woollen accessory, it was not a warm summer and she was always cold, season be damned. Her eyes flick across the screen checking the caller ID, before swiping her finger across it to answer.

 

“What’s up, Arch? You only ever call me when you need something.” She declares, muffled by the glove that’s swinging from her mouth.

 

A male voice, snorts from the other end. “We’re millennials, we’re the generation that text. Get with the programme, _Grandma_.”

 

Betty grimaces, now searching animatedly in her bag for her keys as she continues the walk to her car. “You know I hate that word. Millennials. It makes me want to throw up in my mouth.” She pauses listening to the breathing on the line, waiting for him to respond. “So, you wanted something Arch?”

 

“Oh. Oh yeah, did you get Jug’s text?”

 

“No, I just got out of work. Hang on.” She lifts the phone away from her ear, to fiddle through the apps finding a text from Jughead, her childhood best friend.

 

_Can’t do cinema tonight, at hospital. No need to worry, Archie’s just being his usual overly maternal self._

 

She tuts. Pressing the phone against her ear, which is now reddening from the cold. “His heart again?”

 

It was common, that he’d be admitted to hospital. After having a heart transplant just shy of one years old, his comprised immune system as a result making him all the more susceptible to illnesses. Her and Archie had spent most of their young lives looking out for him, any sign of a spiked temperature or flu symptoms and she’d be pestering him to see a doctor and promptly get to bed. He’d always look at her like she’d grown two more heads before scoffing.

_“Worry gives small things a big shadow, Betts.”_

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_They met on their first day of nursery school, when they were four. Back then she wore her hair in pigtails and despite the persistence of her mother’s hand with a brush. each one always curled in a different direction. He thought she was kind. She thought he was a little too thin. Emphasising her point by pushing a cookie into his hand, with a smile on her face. Her tongue sticking between the gap, where a tooth she’d recently lost had been. Her loss of baby teeth making her speak with a lisp, that Jughead still brought up even to the present day._

_“I’m Betty.”_

_He pulled his beanie down further over his head, hiding behind the grey wool. Whispering his own name to his scuffed shoes. She surveyed him, before the toothless grin reappeared and she stated, with more confidence than most four year olds, that she would call him Juggie from now on. As she watches her pink tulle skirt floating in the September wind, the boy in the crown beanie disappearing from sight with the remainder of her cookie squashed into his mouth. She knew that was the day she fell for Jughead Jones._

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

She hears rustling, bringing her back to the present. “Yeah, I’m at the hospital with him now He told me not to bother you but you know that’s just Jug, being Jug.” He pauses for breath. “They just took him for an X-ray. I’ve already watched them take his blood and they said something about putting a catheter in his groin. I’m not sure exactly, I think I might have blacked out after that little titbit.”

 

It’s Betty’s turn to snort. “You want me to tag in?”

 

She hears him audibly gulp. “I think it’d be best for my health.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

_They’re introduced to Archie the next year, when they enter primary school. From then on, in Fred Andrews words they’re the three musketeers, always ready to defend each other. The first time it’s truly tested is when they were ten, and Mary Andrews left Archie with just his dad. That evening, they made forts from spare bed sheets, using torches they found in the shed to make scary faces under the cover of darkness._

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty’s pale trainers slap against the polished tiled floor as she rounds the corner, coming onto the ward. She checks the sign on the door and then refers to the text Archie had sent to her during her drive over for confirmation. She hears Jughead before she sees him. He’s stood at an open door, leading to the nurse’s office. Dressed in only a hospital gown, his signature beanie and what Betty assumes are his own grey socks, one toe comically poking out the end. He’s grasping an IV pole, connected to his hand as he gestures animatedly with the other.

 

“All I’m saying Brenda, is that if you get me some food. I’ll promise to love you forever.”

 

A female Betty can’t see, tuts in reply. “I told you, Forsythe. You can’t have anything before your procedure!”

 

“Come on Brenda, we’re all friends here! I won’t tell if you won’t. I’ll even throw in my first born, if it helps.”

 

Betty makes her way towards him going seemingly unnoticed, she clears her throat. “Juggie, stop pestering the poor nurse.”

 

Jughead groans, turning to look at her. “Archie is such a tattletale. What ever happened to the bro code?”

 

“The _bro_ code flew out the window when you told me Archie used to pick his nose and wipe it on my furniture.”

 

He laughs loudly. “He still can’t look your mum in the eye.”

 

Betty’s mouth forms into a thin line. “And neither will you be able to, when I tell her you’ve been withholding that information.” He crinkles his nose in objection. “That’s what I thought. Now let’s get you back to bed.” He huffs as Betty manoeuvres his body round the pole, bidding the nurse goodbye as they make their way back to his room. His words echoing in the familiar white hallway.

 

“I’ll be waiting for that toast Brenda! And no scrimping on the butter!”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

They locate his hospital bed on the second bay from the nurses’ office. Wandering past a couple of other patients and their visitors, they to the end of the row to find an empty bed. It has crumbled sheets and adjacent to that a redheaded male perched on a plastic chair, scrolling casually through his phone. Behind him, a large window giving them an ample view of the English countryside.

 

“Lost something?” Betty questions, an out of breath Jughead slipping back onto his bed with a disgruntled expression on his face.

 

Archie looks up, visibly exhaling. “I went to the toilet and when I got back he’d disappeared!”

 

Jughead clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Looking really worried there, updating your twitter.”

 

Archie pretends he doesn’t hear him. Choosing instead of get out of his chair, which squeaks at the release of tension. Reaching across to fiddle with the oxygen mask that’s been left hanging off the bed, he attempts to place it over Jughead’s face.

 

Jughead scowls, pushing his friends hand away from his face. “Don’t try and put that on me.”

 

Archie looks at Betty in the typical _can you see what I’ve been dealing with_ kind of way. “The nurse said you have to wear it Jug.”

 

“She won’t even give me any toast; so don’t trust anything she says.” He retorts, wheezing slightly. “Tell your twitter that. It’s all political.”

 

Betty shares a look with her redheaded friend, gesturing to him to pass her the mask. She fiddles with the strap, and despite his protests coming in the form of a swatting motion with his long arms in her direction. She successfully manages to attach it to Jughead’s face.

 

“Don’t be a baby, Jug.” She answers, watching him cross his arms over his chest a scowl etched into his face beneath the clear plastic.

 

\---------------------------------------------

_They are called upon again three years later when Jughead’s mother disappeared into the night, his younger sister in tow. Leaving a thirteen-year-old boy to take care of his father as he spiralled into alcoholism. He’d wait for FP to fall into a liquor infused sleep before riding over to Betty’s house on his bike. Scaling the side of the building to spend the night curled up next to the blonde. Pre-adolescent bodies compressed into her single bed, the warmth of the Cooper’s home and Betty’s even voice as she recites to him a chapter from her most recently read book, lulling him swiftly into dreams thus beginning a tradition._

_Two months later when his father is apprehended for drunk driving, not his first offence, and just so happens to clip a pedestrian in the process. His words, not Jughead’s. He probably would have used something like maim. Jughead finds himself in the care of Fred Andrews permanently._

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

He disappears half an hour later after an extended argument about why he could not wear his hat in a sterile environment, for another test.

 

Betty turns to Archie, her own chair equally squeaky. “So what happened exactly?”

 

Archie huffs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know really, We’d just got back from working at dad’s and he said he didn’t feel well. So he went to the loo and then I heard a bang, went to check on him and he’d fainted coming out into the hallway.” Betty makes a noise of understanding, waiting for him to continue.

 

“I put him to bed, went to check on him later and he’d spiked a fever and you know he has to go to the hospital when that happens. Even though he was refusing, naturally.”

 

Betty gnaws at her bottom lips worryingly. “They seem to be doing more tests than usual, don’t you think?”

 

One corner of Archie’s mouth upturns in thought. “Maybe.” He halts for a beat, deflecting. “He’s dropped from about a nine out of ten on the Jughead’s being a sarcastic arsehole scale to a solid five, since you got here. Which is good, I suppose.”

 

Betty’s mouth quirks up slightly. “He just hates hospitals.”

 

“I dropped his water and he told me, my stupidity was too much for this world and I should just have a vasectomy now.” Archie retorts, frowning slightly at the thought. He looks up at the clock, as if suddenly remembering. “My dad said he’d get here as soon as he can get away from work.”

 

Betty nods, as the conversation peters off into a comfortable silence. The ground feeling unstable beneath her feet.

 

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_It’s always the same nightly routine, Jughead would wait until Fred and Archie are out for the count before making his out of Archie’s window and up the trellis to Betty’s window. The lights are out except for the small lamp next to her bed and the window is still open a crack giving him leverage to open it. He always lands ungracefully with a thud, which makes her laugh. Cackling quietly into her hand, in order to spare him from the wrath of Alice._

_That’s how he finds out, when they’re sixteen, that Betty’s older sister Polly is pregnant. How he discovers a year later, that she was contemplating taking a gap year before going to University but was unsure how Alice would take it. Then when they’re eighteen, it’s how she finds out his life is in limbo._

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

He doesn’t visit her bedroom that night. Fred Andrews, true to his word, arrives an hour later effectively relieving Betty and Archie of their duties. Betty hugs Jughead tightly, his hospital gown’s cheap material crinkling under her touch. Hoping his physical presence would rid her of the overwhelming anxiety. Of course, not in the same way as having his body wrapped round her smaller one in her single bed does. So she wakes with dark rings under her eyes, unable to shake the feeling that the air has escaped her lungs and she’s taking on water.

 

He comes to her room the next night; she’s still sat up in bed a book on her lap but she’s not really paying attention. He wheezes again slightly as he folds his lean body through her window. She pushes the book onto her bedside table, pulling her covers back for him to get in. He flicks off her lamp as he slides in, facing her. A weird expression plays on his face under the moonlight that seeps between the gap in her curtains. She can feel her her body sink deeper into the murky, cold liquid.

 

“I googled your symptoms.”

 

The expression fades into a smirk and a little bit of light pokes through the darkness she’s feeling. “I assume I’m either dying or pregnant.”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

“Well I’m _definitely_ not with child.” His nose scrunches, making the freckles merge together in a funny pattern. A tell-tale sign he’s debating whether to tell her something, so she presses him.

 

“But?”

 

Betty watches his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, like a boat docked at the harbour. Evidently giving in to her, ever his kryptonite. “The doctor said I need a new heart.”

 

The metaphorical light she saw, disappears into nothing and suddenly she’s gasping for air as she’s pushed deeper into the unknown. “How long?”

 

His eyebrow arches upwards, puzzled. “What?”

 

“How long have you not felt well?”

 

He folds an arm around her waist, pulling her into a hug. “Not important.” She hits her forehead against his chin in retaliation to the stupidity of his answer.

 

“A couple of weeks, a month, I don’t know. I didn’t think much of it.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

He shrugs, nonchalantly. “Didn’t want to worry you.”

 

“We don’t do that, Jug. We don’t keep stuff from each other.” He nods, guilt coursing through his veins. “Does Archie know?” Jughead nods again. She relaxes for a moment, her short bursts of warmth breath against his neck making his eyes flutter shut, until she again can’t fight off the questions stirring on the tip of her tongue.

 

“How long is the wait list?”

 

Jughead adjusts on her single bed, rolling to his back and taking her with him onto his chest. “Average waiting time is six months. The really cheery pamphlet the gave me said I’m about fifteen percent likely to die whilst waiting.” He’s trying to be funny, his usual sarcastic self but all she sees is darkness.

 

“That’s not going to be you.” Is what she tries to say, but it comes out as garbled nonsense against the fabric of his t shirt now soaked with tears she was unaware she was shedding.

As tears pool in her green eyes, he simply strokes her hair. Pulling her closer to his chest underneath her floral bedspread, to whisper.

“Worry gives small things a big shadow, Betts.” The familiar sentiment soothes her somewhat. She shakes her head in reply, unintentionally wiping her dripping nose onto his wet shirt. But if he minds, he doesn’t say anything. Instead her rubs a warm hand up and down her arm, creating goosebumps in his path. They lay in the darkness listening to the familiar dance of each other breathing. Just when she thinks he’s fallen asleep he speaks again.

 

“Let’s go on a road trip.”

 

Betty cranes her neck back to catch his eyes in the moonlight. “What?”

 

“A road trip. You’ve took this gap year because you wanted to figure out where you wanted to go and want you wanted to do. So let’s figure it out.” He mentions, in a similar tone to which he’d ask if she wants a biscuit or a cup of tea. Like it’s the easiest conversation in the world and not like he’s living on borrowed time.

 

Betty’s far more skeptical, speaking with unease. “I don’t know, Jug. My mum…”

 

“Will love the fact you’re taking an interest in your future education.” Jughead interjects.

 

“What if you get a call about a heart and you need to be at the hospital in half an hour and we’re all the way up North…or…”

 

“What if I turn into a pink elephant tomorrow. What if Theresa May calls and says she wants me to replace her as Prime Minister. Don’t base your decision on what if’s, Betts.” She realizes he’s waiting for a reply, while her mind wanders between a pink elephant in his beanie and Jughead stood outside Downing Street. She can’t decide which is more ridiculous. But it appeases her brain long enough to see clearly through the haze of sadness, to make a decision.

 

“Ok.” She falls asleep to the image of him smiling down at her and the sound of his heart beating, pressing her ear hard to his chest in the hopes of hearing something that might fix him as pink elephants and cartoon Theresa May’s dance over her head.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

As the sun rises and the sky lightens, he gets out of her bed to make his way back to the Andrews house. A tried and tested method for avoiding Alice Cooper. Before he disappears back through her window, he pulls her into a tight hug. As she grasps at the now dry, creased fabric of his t shirt between her fists, drinking him in. He leans his chin against the crown of her head, blonde hair rumpled from sleep.

 

“Let’s make it about you and your future. Not me and mine.” So that day, they plan. What could be the final chapter of his life coming to a close and the new chapter of hers beginning.


	2. Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the response to the story so far this is the new chapter! Their first stop on the road trip, I know I'm a slow writer I do apologise but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

As August filters into September it brings with it colder weather, which Jughead's appreciative of. What he wasn’t such a fan of was the abundance of packing that needed to be done for the road trip, now it was just around the corner. He and Betty were currently in his bedroom, sorting through his possessions to pack, or just creating more mess. He really couldn’t differentiate at this point.

 

He turns to add a third pair of dark jeans into his duffle bag and finds Archie in the doorway observing the disorder from a far. “I can’t believe you guys are going on a road trip without me.” The redhead says, his tone light.

 

Jughead sniffs in reply, a smirk firmly in place. “It’s not our fault you decided to better yourself by going into higher education. It’s just plain selfish, Arch.”

 

Archie fakes a laugh, eyebrow arching at the blonde rifling through the now decimated wardrobe.  “I can’t believe you managed to convince your mum.”

 

Betty just shrugs, holding up a jumper suggestively at Jughead. “She seemed somewhat pleased I was thinking about my future.”

 

He grasps it, folding it haphazardly into his bag along with the rest of his clothes. “It’s funny how many people say yes to things when you tell them you might die tomorrow.”

 

“Jug!” Betty scolds. Refolding the jumper, he just placed into his bag.

 

He waves her off. “Even Alice _heart of stone_ Cooper can’t resist, when I bring out the wheezing and coughing. I’m practically the next Leonardo DiCaprio.”

 

Archie barks a laugh. “Didn’t you fail drama at school?”

 

“Only because Mrs Chambers doesn’t understand real art.”

 

“And you used to skive off, all the time.” Betty responds, now fiddling through his various boxes of tablets to pack them into his wash bag.

 

Jughead smirks. “That’s neither here nor there.” He grasps all the boxes out of Betty’s hands before dumping them into the bag, leaving her with a scowl on her face as he grins down at her. Her heart beating faster.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

A week later it’s time to say a reluctant goodbye to Archie. After a summer of working for his father, with Jughead, he was moving North to start his University degree. Betty and Jughead help Archie and Fred fill up the car. It’s on that day, stuffed into the back of Fred’s car along with the majority of his friend’s belongings, that he notices the slight swelling in his feet, his shoes feeling somewhat tighter than usual. Just another of the fantastic side effects he’d been looking forward to.

 

He helps Archie and the older Andrews to empty all the possessions into a slightly too small, dank smelling room inside the halls of residence. They briefly hug goodbye and Archie questions if Jughead will be ok, he simply nods hoping to quell the signs of uneasiness in his friend’s eyes, leaving Fred to say his goodbye to his son.

 

They hadn’t spoken much about the elephant in the room since the hospital visit. It was better that way, Jughead thought. He didn’t want to burden him with problems bigger than they’re eighteen years, just as his new adventure was beginning. Jughead and Fred leave Archie, speaking to a dark haired girl of their age. His stomach aching slightly with nausea and he’s not sure if it’s a side effect of his heart failure or the notion that they may not see each other again in person, in this lifetime.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

They set off on their trip on a Monday and it rains. Bags sandwiched into the boot of Betty’s car jostle slightly as they travel down the motorway, towards their first destination. The conversation flows easily as it always does, until the noise of the rain and the calm of the announcer’s voice over the radio lulls Jughead into sleep. He’s always tired now.

 

A knocking sound wakes him up, he peaks an eye open looking around the car for the offending object. He zeroes in on something square and plastic stashed away in the car door.

 

“Betts?”

 

She flicks her eyes towards him, her grip on the wheel tightening slightly. “Yeah?”

 

A smile plays on his lips as he watches her profile, trying to act innocent. “I need to ask you a serious question. A _very_ serious question.”

 

“What, Jug?” Her tone exasperated, already anticipating what he had to say was not serious at all. He picks the item out of the pocket in the door, brandishing it in front of her face. Now biting his lip to keep from laughing.

 

“Why do you have an ABBA CD in your car?” Betty grabs it from his hands, pushing it into pocket of the door on her side, a flush creeping onto her cheeks. He snorts in retaliation, adding in a thoughtful tone. “I mean props for it being a CD, but really? ABBA?”

 

She sucks her teeth in annoyance. “Jug?”

 

“Yeah?” He queries, the innocent tone back.

 

“Shut up, or we’ll be listening to it for the whole way.” He mimes zipping his lips and Betty can’t help but smile.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

He doesn’t last long before instigating a game of I Spy. Betty looks around, deciding on a letter. “I spy with my little eye something beginning with…t.”

 

His lips curl inwards in thought, transforming into a small frown. “Tree?”

 

“Yes, congratulations.” She emphasises with faux enthusiasm. Jughead throws his arms in the air, exasperated.

 

“I honestly feel like you’re not even trying.”

 

Her eyebrows fold together, in annoyance. “There’s not much to look at on a motorway, Jug!”

 

“Be creative, Betty!” The eyebrows remain firmly knitted together. “Ok, I’ll go. I spy with my little eye something beginning with…a.”

 

Betty glances at the surroundings, for the item in question. “I don’t know…Audi?”

 

“Nope!” That pesky grin playing on his lips again. She exhales audibly. Out the corner of her eye, something catches her attention in the well of the car door.

 

“I’m not sure we’re going to last on this trip, without me punching you in the throat.”

 

He gasps. “You have an evil streak, Betty Cooper.”

 

A smirk finds her perfect pink lips. “And don’t you forget it.”

 

Betty waits until the conversation has died down and the game of I Spy has ended, Jughead now comfortably napping with his beanie over his face.  She takes one hand off the steering wheel to grasp the CD that he was alluding to during the game. As the tune to Dancing Queen begins to play out over the speakers in Betty’s car, Jughead groans into the fabric of his hat, effectively muffling his voice to Betty’s ears.

 

“I’ll pay you handsomely to pop my ear drums right now.”

 

She laughs loudly. “I told you what would happen if you weren’t quiet!”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

By the time they reach Bath, the rain has ceased making way for the evening and a mass of grey clouds that definitely can’t be trusted. They park the car and make the walk to the hotel, Jughead was in charge of booking. It’s an old building, like the majority of Bath’s architecture. As part of a chain of hotels, the room is modest. Mainly cheap wooden furniture and white bedspreads across the double bed, because it was more unnatural for them to sleep in separate beds, as opposed to together.

 

They find a small café to eat their dinner. The waiter overtly flirts with Betty; she doesn’t seem to notice but it leaves him with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, he can’t quite put his finger on. They retire back to their hotel room for an early night, falling asleep to the light of the television as it plays out an old game show on mute and the sound of each other breathing.

 

In the morning he lets Betty shower first, because he knows she likes the water almost boiling and the cold always works better to bring him out of his tired state. They don’t get breakfast because neither of them are particularly hungry after their late meal, the previous night. Truth be told, he’s never that hungry anymore. But he knows he has to eat and a part of him hates that he’s lost something that was so distinctively _Jughead_.

 

As the elevator descends to the ground floor, Betty turns to him.

 

“So what are we doing today?”

 

He simply taps the side of his nose, a smirk on his lips. “All in due time, Miss Cooper.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

The weather is distinctively better than during the drive, the sun peeking through the clouds as they make their way past the Palladian architecture, walking towards Jughead’s planned destination. They pass the Bath Abbey and come up to a familiar looking grand building. Flanked by pillars made from the notorious limestone brick often featured in Bath architecture.

 

“I can’t believe you remembered!” Betty practically shouts into the crowded high street. Mouth gaping open as she looks up at Jughead.

 

“How could I not? They wouldn’t let us go in, because you projectile vomited all over me and Archie in the back of the bus.” He states, emphasising the word _projectile_ for maximum effect. Betty grimaces at the memory.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_It happens when they’re eight and on the way from the comfort of their small village to a school trip a couple of hours away. By then she’d converted from pigtails to a ponytail, although it still curled at the end. Betty was never good at travelling in the back of moving vehicles, but didn’t want to leave anyone out by sitting on a two set of chairs._

_She’d forgotten her motion sickness wrist bands; which Alice didn’t restrain herself when telling her what a mistake that had been as she soaked Betty’s clothes in the sink that evening. The motion of the bus as they rattled down the motorway, combined with the smell of the egg sandwich the boy in front was eating and she was truly done for._

_Archie had offered her, his water bottle which she took gladly. Whilst Jughead had removed his flannel shirt from around his waist, handing it to her as he dabbed his jeans off using the tissues their teacher had in her handbag. She still had the flannel in her drawer to this day._

\---------------------------------------------

 

She’s brought back to the present by the sound of Jughead clearing his throat. He looks at her expectantly, gesturing towards the entrance. “Well, shall we go in?”

 

She smiles shyly. “If we must.” He places a hand on her shoulder and she feels a jolt of electricity travel through her body. She shakes off the thought, it was only a friendly gesture. He only sees her as a friend. Her best friend.

 

“So long as you promise, all body fluids will stay on the inside at all times.”

 

Betty scoffs but the smile doesn’t leave her face. “There’s that urge to punch you in the throat again!”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

After spending the majority of the day immersed in the culture of the Roman baths, Jughead is sufficiently fatigued when they make their exit. He’s breathing heavily when they return to the hotel after an evening of meandering around the town followed by a meal of pizza, that he couldn’t finish. But there’s a wide grin on Betty’s face that makes it all worthwhile.

 

The next day, he’s not nearly as nauseous and the sun is shining. Although he’s still not entirely bothered by the concept of eating, Jughead announces they need supplies. So after showering and a change of clothes, him and Betty march to the nearest corner shop and spend almost an hour picking up various beverages and snack foods. He stores it in his backpack, he’d brought along for the trip and steals the ratty blanket from the boot of Betty’s car. He grips her hand, taking off at the slow pace he was now used to walking at.

 

They make their way out of town, coming onto fields and a dry, well-trodden path. It’s bordered by white flowers, that Jughead doesn’t know the name of but he picks one all the same offering it to Betty. She scolds him telling him that he shouldn’t pick flowers but in the same breath, places it behind her ear. Heat spreads across her cheeks.

 

About half way through the walk, they come to a field with a view far and wide of the cityscape below. They set up their picnic, watching the other groups of people around them. Some are families while others look more in the way of friends joining on a warm day to enjoy the view. Jughead watches a kite floating dipping and weaving through the air, the attached ribbons making a fluttering noise amongst the passing clouds. For a fleeting moment he thinks he’ll miss this.

 

After their food is eaten and drink is drunk, they lay back against the blanket that smells distinctively of the Cooper household. His eyes drifting shut as his head is filled with memories of his nights spent in bed with Betty.

 

He’s halfway asleep, when he feels a poke in his ribs. He turns to look for the source to see Betty up on her elbows, she nods towards the sky. “Now, tell me what shape do you see?”

 

He tilts his head, squinting slightly at the daylight. “Maybe…a cat?”

 

Betty tuts, losing one elbow to gesture at his stupidity. “That’s never a cat!”

 

Jughead purses his lips in thought. “Isn’t it purely perceptive?” Betty’s eyebrows knit together in question. “I just blew your mind, Betty Cooper.”

 

She shoves him in the shoulder playfully, her heart rate elevating when he grasps her hand in his own intertwining their fingers.  “Remember that stuffed cat you had? Whatever happened to that.”

 

“Vegas bit its head off, when we were having a sleepover at Archie’s.” Betty states in a monotone voice, her lips creasing slightly as the memory plays in her head, attempting to keep a straight face.

 

“That’s…sad?” He suggests, biting his lip in an effort not to laugh. She can’t help her lip curling either as a giggle bubbles in her throat.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

On the third day, they travel to the University to have a look around. It has a lot of greenery which Betty seems to like, but the slight frown etched into her face the whole way round the tour makes him think it’s perhaps not the place for her.

 

“So how do you like Bath? On a scale from one, I’d rather listen to Archie talk about all the variations of guitar for two hours to ten which is I could live here, go to University here, eat kebabs at three in the morning here.” Jughead asks, out of breath as they cross the road making their way back towards the hotel. Betty slows her pace even further, which he appreciates but almost feels embarrassed.

 

“The city is a solid six, the University was a two. Not quite Archie and his guitars low, but pretty low.”

 

He coughs a little. “Yeah, there was a distinct smell of eggs following us around.”

 

Betty gives him a smile, that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Worry etched into them. “How do you know that wasn’t just you.”

 

He shakes his head, in the way to say he was fine. “Because, Cooper. I’m always deodorant fresh. Here, give them a whiff.” He holds his armpits up, miming something akin to a chicken flapping its wings.

 

Betty’s nose wrinkles but the smiles still there. “Fine, don’t smell. I made sure to check you too, by the way. Gave you a good old sniff and I can confirm you don’t smell like rotten eggs.”

 

“Good to know.” She retorts, jokily.  

 

Jughead wraps an arm round Betty’s shoulder, the scent of _her_ floating through the air. “I do, however, like your perfume.” Betty beams into her shoes, an arm coming round his waist as they continue their slow walk.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

They spend the next morning attempting to pack everything back into their bags for the eleven o’ clock check out and after an early breakfast they are back in the car, setting the course for their next place on the list.

 

“The gears can be a bit stiff, so you should…”

 

“Just so you know, Betts. And I feel like this is pertinent, I have actually driven a car before.” Jughead states, watching Betty’s lips go white at the interruption.

 

“Just know…”

 

He raises his hands in surrender. “That if I do anything, I’ll get punched in the throat?”

 

She releases her lip from her teeth, curing upwards into a grin. “Bingo.”

 

As he turns the key in the ignition, he turns to look at her. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to threaten a dying man with violence.”

 

“I think we’re going to have to limit how many times a day you can use that card.” Betty jokes but he sees worry flash behind her green eyes, all the same. He grasps her hand, stroking a thumb across the back of it.

 

“Worry gives small things a big shadow, Betts.”  She nods, concentrating on the feeling of his warm skin against hers as Bath disappears in the rear view mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story please feel free to leave kudos or comments, or both! I will love you eternally.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr - aisforr.tumblr.com
> 
> P.S. I once did a dance with my drama group to Dancing Queen and it still haunts me to this day!


	3. Oxford and London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter time! This was written under the influence of some heavy duty medicine for my raging throat infection, that's currently wreaking havoc with my body. So if it's god awful, I do apologise! But hopefully not, enjoy!

After travelling from Bath they spend the night in another chain hotel in Oxford. The next day they visit Oxford University, the second on their agenda. One of Jughead’s choices, because he had far more belief in Betty’s capabilities than she did. Following a tour of the grounds and attendance at various talks about subjects Betty thinks she may be interested in, they take up a table at the local café on campus. It’s busy, the volume of people meaning they have no other option but to sit on the metal chairs outside. As the October wind whips around their ears, sending Betty’s ponytail wayward, she observes people as they wander by.

 

Jughead blows on his tea before taking a sip, the porcelain warming his hands comfortably. He watches Betty’s eyes flit around the grounds, a slight frown on her lips. “I feel like I should be wearing some wizard robes.” She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes now trailing the lines of the buildings. “Or have a wand or substantially more money in my bank account.”

 

Ordinarily this would be something she’d laugh at and although the English Literature course had peaked her interest. She can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t belong somewhere like this. The frown remains etched in her face as she twists back to face Jughead, concern flickering in his blue orbs. She sighs, the steam from her own cup of tea filling her nose as she stirs in milk.

 

“I don’t even know why we’re here, Jug.”

 

Jughead smiles at her, blue eyes meeting hers across the table. He grips her free hand; causing her body to relax unconsciously, the crowded campus falling to the back of her mind. “Because you’re capable of this.”

 

“I think…”

 

He shakes his head. His calloused thumb making a pattern across the back of her hand, squeezing it slightly in an act of comfort.  “You’re better than all these people, have some faith. Don’t be afraid of achieving.” The corners of her mouth turn upwards at his words. He pats her hand, letting go to grasp his tea cup. “Now, finish your tea. We’ve got at least four more talks to attend and then I’ll be asking for your score on the rating scale, at the end of the day.”

 

Betty nods, a toothy grin appearing on her face as she brings her tea to her lips. “Ok.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

In the end she gives it a solid eight on Jughead’s University rating scale, classified as being on par with eating a traditional Fred Andrews Sunday roast dinner. The next day, they leave the car at the Oxford hotel and take the train to London to stay at similar accommodation and indulge in some tourist activities. Betty scrolls through her phone, using the time to reply to texts from her mother, Fred and Archie. Detailing how their road trip was progressing and the state of Jughead’s health. Jughead on the other hand, spends the journey catching up on sleep. His head rests on her shoulder for the majority of the way. The steady rise and fall of his chest, more interesting to her than the passing scenery of rolling hills, greenery and packs of farm animals.

 

She wakes him fifteen minutes before the train pulls into the city. Giving him time to adjust and put his shoes back on, having taken them off due to the swelling making them uncomfortable to wear for prolonged periods of time. Something he’d tried to severely downplay after she’d noticed his slight limp following the drive from Bath to Oxford. He blinks heavily, before lifting his head off her shoulder to stretch his arms above his head.

 

He looks down at her phone, gesturing towards it. “Has Archie texted you?”

 

She nods her head. “He asked how you were and said he’d met some nice people. A girl called Veronica has come up a lot.”

 

“Yeah, he texts me every day to ask if I’m dead. Which I suppose if you think about it, isn’t such a fool proof plan.” He chuckles. His breath stuttering, as he coughs into his cupped hand. She’s already in her handbag, pulling out a tissue knowing his coughs often brought up mucus. He thanks her silently, wiping his hand and mouth. His eyes are tinged with concern and when she sees the flash of red against the white of the tissue, she understands why.

 

Her expression must convey what she’s feeling, because he offers her an uncertain smile. Quickly tucking the tissue away from sight. “Ok, I know that looks scary. But it’s not, it happens. It’s a normal symptom.” She opens her mouth but nothing seems to come out, the word normal relaying in her head. Like it’s mocking her, because it’s not normal. None of this is normal. Normal isn’t going to sleep every night wondering if her best friend will be dead when she wakes up. In that moment, she realises then she’s not been breathing and her brain is flashing warning signs at her. A warm sensation runs through her arm as she feels her hand being placed against a hard chest. The slightly fast heart rate that she’s accustomed to hearing at night, thuds against her palm. As a feeling of calm washes over her, her eyes refocus on Jughead.

 

He smiles softly, pressing her palm closer to his chest. “Hey.” She watches the fabric of his shirt crease under the weight of her hand as she flexes her fingers.

 

“Hey.”

 

He squeezes her hand, knowing exactly how to pull her out of the spiral. “Worry gives small things a big shadow.”

 

She inhales deeply, repeating it back to him. The thudding of his heart echoing through her body.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Subsequent to depositing their bags at the new hotel, they spend the day riding the tube to different museums on Betty’s to do list. Following a quick visit back to the hotel, to give Jughead the opportunity to have a lie down, they then find themselves at a burger joint for their evening meal. Jughead tells her animatedly how they supposedly do the best burgers in London, but he’d have to try more places to be able to give a valid opinion. Neither of them voice that he might not have the opportunity to, but it does leave a lump in Betty’s throat that she can’t quite swallow.

 

He orders one with cheese, at which her nose unconsciously scrunches and she can’t help but comment that he’s supposed to be eating healthily. Jughead scoffs, but the smile on his face let’s her know it’s purely good natured and he promptly asks the waitress for a side salad. He manages half the salad all the while with a disgruntled yet playful look on his face. He seems to enjoy the burger and tells her as much. She grins, feeling the lump in her throat decrease in size. As she sees _her_ Jughead peeking through the veil of his illness.

 

Upon exiting the restaurant, Betty looks up at him expecting him to inform her of their plans for the evening. She finds him pulling a strip of dark fabric from his back pocket. Her eyebrows quirk up as confusion fills her head. “What’s that?”

 

“A blindfold.” He states, in a matter of fact tone. Her eyebrows stay firmly risen.

 

“For what, exactly?”

 

“For you.” She can already feel her head shaking in the negative. “Where on earth, did you get a blindfold?” His face turns serious. “I’m into some really kinky BDSM kind of shit.” Heat fills her cheeks, despite knowing he’s joking.

 

He snorts in reply. “It’s the bandana from Archie’s pirate costume that year he threw a Halloween party! I’m taking you to our next location and it’s a surprise.” She feels butterflies erupt in her stomach at the thought that he’d been planning the surprise since before they left for the trip. So against her better judgement, she agrees to be blindfolded and led through the busy London streets.

 

As she’s pulled in and out of the busy London streets, Betty’s confident they must look ridiculous. But then she feels him squeeze her hand tightly in his and she just can’t find it in herself to care.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

She gathers they’ve walked a few streets over when they come to a stop. The hand in hers disappears and she feels the familiar warm body against her back, radiating heat through the several layers she’s wearing to protect herself against the October chill. She can feel his breath against her ear as he unties the fabric round her head sending a tingle down her spine. The dark fabric disappears from her eyes; she blinks a few times her eyes readjusting to her surroundings. Jughead reappears at her side, looking slightly giddy. The building in front of them, is not dissimilar to what they’d seen in Bath. It’s pale in colour and grand with pillars decorating the front of it. She looks towards the posters, reading the text against the orange background, the lion’s face looking down at the passers-by.

 

Her mouth gapes open; she spins to look at Jughead who has a gleeful look on his face, tinged with nervous. “Remember when we used to watch it as kids?”

 

“Like every day after school.” Betty replies, surprise still evident on her face.

 

He nods, an arm wrapping round her shoulder. “And you would hide behind a cushion when Scar came on the television.” A smile appears on her lips at the fond memory.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_Living in a small village it was common for the children to walk the short distance from school to their homes without their parent’s supervision. Whilst at primary school, it was tradition that Betty would walk with Jughead and Archie back to Archie’s house to watch television and have dinner._

_Mary Andrews would be home waiting for them, prior to her departure from the family unit. The first time they watched Lion King, was a warm April day. They dumped their school bags by the the coat stand in Archie’s entrance hall, kicked off their small shoes and jumped into a heap onto the sofa that Betty distinctly remembers would change colour when you brushed your hand against it._

_She hadn’t previously seen the film as Alice never allowed too many things that would ‘turn her brain to mush’, animations with talking animals being just one of those. Despite that rule, her father would often allow her an hour or two of unapproved by Alice television consumption. He claimed what Alice didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her and Betty was happy to comply with that._

_She can still remember the sensation of fear when Scar appeared on screen and the squeal that echoed from her throat, quickly followed by a laugh from Archie. Instead of laughing, Jughead grasped the cushion, pulling it far enough away from her face to squeeze behind it. From that angle, he looked like a cyclops. The closeness making his eyes merge together in her view. But the grin he gave her, a bottom tooth missing waiting for the adult one to grow in, whispering “I’ll tell you when he’s gone.” Filled her with reassurance and trust, that she always felt with Jughead. No matter what._

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“That happened once!” She feels his body shaking with laughter and she can’t help but giggle. Betty peers up at him, the nervousness in his face dissipating. “This must have been expensive Jug, let me pay you back.”

 

He shakes his head vehemently. “No! It was my decision to surprise you, so let me.”

 

Betty wraps an arm around his waist pulling him into a hug. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

 

Jughead smiles brightly. “I’d do anything for you, Betty. You know that.” Betty’s heart thuds loudly against her ribs and she wonders for a second if maybe he can hear it too.

 

“Now come on, or we’ll be late.” Betty reluctantly detangles herself from Jughead, suddenly feeling cold at the loss of contact. However, it’s only brief as he intertwines their fingers leading her into the entrance. His beam widens when he spots the concession stand, leaning down to make it easier for her to hear him over the noise of the crowd.

 

“I’ll even get you a ridiculously overpriced programme, because I’m just nice like that.” She laughs, letting him lead the way.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

That night, Betty falls asleep next to Jughead, animals dancing and singing behind her eyelids. Her Lion King programme in pride of place on the bedside cabinet. The following day, they make the trip to the Tower of London. Betty had seen it once before on a visit with her parents and Polly, but couldn’t remember much about it and Jughead had never been. So after a brief argument about who would pay, Betty was handing her cash over at the kiosk by mid-morning.

 

They filter in and out of the buildings, attempting to avoid the numerous school trips. Whilst visiting the crown jewels, Jughead spends the time speaking in an overly posh voice, which leaves Betty in fits of giggles and the supervising staff member, with a look on his face like he’s sucked a lemon.

 

Jughead insists on trying to find the six ravens around the towers. The excited look on his face, causing her to agree before she can even think twice. So on their way to watch the historical re-enactment when they spot one of them, perched on a bench. He points it out to her, Betty insides curling at the sight of the large bird, she really does dislike birds. Which gives Jughead the perfect opportunity to make Betty jump at regular intervals.

 

They’re midway through watching the re-enactment, as the actor pretend to joust the person opposite when she hears a caw echoing in the shell of her ear, his warmth causing the hair to stand up on the back of her neck.

 

She pushes the thought of pleasure away, moving her head sideways to glance at him. The cheeky grin on his lips making it more difficult for her to keep up the pretence of anger. The frown on her own face wavering.

 

“I’m sure I’ve warned you about annoying me before.”

 

He taps a finger against his chin, in thought. Biting his cheek in an effort to stop himself from laughing. “You may have mentioned…something.”

 

A cheer goes up from the crowd gathered to watch the performance, making Betty jump slightly. Her tongue darts out to wet her lip, in an effort to prevent herself from smiling.

 

“Something about me punching you, ring any bells?”

 

Jughead smirks. “Potentially.” She tilts her head, prompting him to saying anything else. When he doesn’t, she twists back around to watch the end of the show. As the crowd claps, while the actors bow, she feels him step closer to her. The warmth of his front radiating through her coat. She attempts to stop herself from relaxing into as she anticipates what’s coming. Sure enough, not thirty seconds later he delivers another bird call into her ear.

 

She turns around, slapping his shoulder. “Stop doing that!” The smirk doesn’t leave his face. “I didn’t realise I was best friends with a six-year-old.” He throws his head back laughing, the crease between her eyebrows decreasing at the joyful sound. They follow the crowd as it begins to disperse, continuing their tour.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

By the end of the day, they’re both worn out and collapse into bed. On their last day full day in London, they make it to the London Eye. It’s not overly busy, which Betty is appreciative of, so the queue isn’t long. Betty makes her way freely around the pod taking in the complete view of the city.

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.”

 

“Yeah.” Betty replies, rotating to look at Jughead who had taken purchase on the bench in the centre. But when she catches his eye, instead of looking out at the scenery he’s focused on her. She can’t help the way her stomach rolls and the flush from her cheeks seeps into the rest of her body. She blinks and he’s back to looking out onto the Thames. It happens so fast that she’s not sure if she imagines it. Through her wanting it to happen so much, had her brain really made her think he’d been looking at her _lovingly_?

 

“Let’s take a picture.” He declares after a moment of silence, fishing his phone from his jeans pocket and rising from the seat. Seemingly unaware of the buzzing going off in Betty’s head. She shakes it away, hoping the blushing has depleted somewhat.

 

“Are you suggesting a _selfie_ , Jughead Jones?” She tries her best to keep her voice even.

 

He smirks and she’s pretty confident it’s not a trick of the eye, when his gaze flicks across her heated cheeks. “Maybe I am, Betty Cooper. Maybe I am.”

 

“I think the last picture we have of us together, was Archie’s thirteenth birthday and you wore navy.”

 

She laughs as he pulls a face. “Yeah, that was an unfortunate fashion choice.” Pausing for a beat to flick through his phone, to his camera. “But the good news is, I’m wearing black today so we can make some new memories.” Betty smiles as he pulls her closer, adjusting the angle to accommodate their height difference. She curls into his denim jacket, to take the photo.

 

Jughead pulls the phone down to his eye level to inspect it, a grin finding its way onto his face. He passes it over to her. “I don’t want you to forget about me, when you’re off gallivanting around University.”

 

To any of the other bystanders in the pod, it sounded like a casual conversation but Betty knew the true meaning behind it. Her heart aching at the thought of being in a position where she could forget about him. She moves to look at him, his expression giving nothing away.

 

“I could never forget you, Juggie.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty’s confident it’s not morning, when she cracks her eyes open to see a figure stood by the window. The net curtains, lit by the street lights making him appear ethereal in the darkness of the hotel room. She reaches out searching for her phone, the clank of it hitting the carpeted floor, alerting the figure to her no longer sleeping form. He flashes her what she thinks is a closed mouth smile, but could be anything under the cover of night. She throws the sheet back, getting out of bed. Her foot touching the cool metal of her phone, making a mental note to pick it up later. She manages to avoid tripping over her open suitcase, as she comes to stand next to him at the window.

 

“Can’t sleep?”

 

He opens the gap between the netting to let her in. Securing them in a cocoon, that reminds her of the forts they built as children. He’s breathing heavily, as though he can’t find enough air, a feeling she knows all too well. Blue eyes, sunken from lack of sleep, never leaving the cityscape out of the window. “Not really.” A cough leaves his lips, prior to wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “You snore louder than Archie and that’s saying something.”

 

She tuts, smiling softly up at him, the light from the bustling city filtering onto the side of his face. “I do not.” He smiles briefly, but the frown it’s replaced by makes worry flutter in her chest.  She bumps his shoulder with her own. “Hey, you want to talk about it?”

 

He shakes his head. “Maybe later.” She takes a deep breath, debating her next move. She knows not to push him on the matter, he always came round when he was ready. Instead of using words, she grasps his hand in hers. Placing it against the cotton fabric of her sleep shirt, to allow him to feel the continuous thud of her heart.

 

“You’re not alone, Juggie.” Her breath hitches as he looks down at her, her eyes losing focus on his face as he leans down. She assumes he’s going for a hug but instead places a kiss against her cheek. Leaving her skin humming in delight under the touch of his slight stubble, coarse against her heated face.

 

He retracts, looking shocked at his own actions. “I just…I hope…thanks, Betty. You always know how to make me feel better and I’m glad I have you as my best friend.” 

 

“No problem.” She squeaks, her heart aching as though his words are a knife through her chest. Best friends, right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story please feel free to leave kudos or comments, or both! I will love you eternally.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr - aisforr.tumblr.com


	4. The Peak District and Manchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this out sooner than I expected. What can I say, inspiration hit me and hit me hard. It's a bit emotional but I hope you enjoy!

Following their trip to the capital, they make their way by train back to Oxford. Once successfully packed into the car, Jughead navigates them North. The late October wind whips around the car as they speed along the motorway, towards the Peak District. Jughead spends the majority of the journey asleep.

 

On his waking moments, they make small talk and he doesn’t suggest any car games. After he’d kept her up half the night, he couldn’t say he was surprised to see the dark circles under her eyes. He’d offered to drive, but she’d quickly refused. Keeping to their rule of taking it in turns. Her point that he was just as tired as she was, was not invalid.

 

The quiet as the follow the narrow, winding roads of the countryside, gives him the opportunity to think. To think about what she’d said to him last night. Contemplate why he’d kissed her on the cheek.  He felt ready to accept death, like an old friend welcoming you calmly and you going with them gladly. That’s what he’d been considering, when she’d woken up.

 

But then he’d looked down at her. Hair mussed from sleep, eyes slightly dazed from being up at the ungodly hour and her soft lips developing into a smile as her heart thudded against his palm. He couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of love, enveloping all his senses. So maybe he wasn’t quite ready to greet death after all.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

It’s late evening when they reach the hotel. There’s a small amount of cars parked outside, but it’s not peak season so it’s not surprising that it’s quiet. The hotel is a white large scale building, hidden amongst the shrubbery and woodland paths. It’s all cream coloured paint, white trimmings with vintage wood and comfortable mismatched chairs.

 

There’s an older woman at the reception desk, the creases across her skin putting her age in the 70’s. Her grey hair’s clipped at the top of her head in a haphazard fashion, like she had limited time that morning, with small strands hanging down to frame her round face. She’s breathing deeply with her eyes closed, her thick glasses slipping further down her nose with each exhale.

 

Jughead slings his bag down on the wooden floor, looking towards Betty who shrugs her shoulders. Her head shaking in the negative, offering no suggestions. He exhales sharply, resorting to clearing his throat in an effort to get the sleeping woman’s attention. After the fifth attempt, his throat is getting dry and Betty is creasing with laughter. Jughead tries a sixth time, attempting to ignore the feeling of his stomach flipping to the noise of Betty’s contagious laughter.

 

Finally, one crinkled eyelid opens to reveal a brown pupil. She startles, a hand flying to her chest as her chair creaks under the movement.

 

“Hello!” She greets them in an overly enthusiastic tone, as though nothing’s happened. Which has Betty curling her lip into her teeth to prevent herself from spilling into more laughter.

  
“Hi…It’s Jones?” Jughead replies, questioningly. The older woman blinks heavily at him from behind the desk, her eyes magnified behind the large frames. Jughead watches the cogs rotating in her brain, she jumps in her seat again realisation dawning on her. Her flailing arms as she searches through the papers in front of her, causing Jughead to take a step back in precaution.

 

“Jones…Jones…Jones.” She pauses to pull a piece of paper from behind another stack. “Here it is! Two people, one bedroom. Just need you to sign this, my love. I’ll go get your key.” She disappears from her chair. Another creak echoes into the large hallway, as she moves across to the cabinet behind her. Jughead scrawls against his name on the paper she’d pushed across to him, watching Betty flick through the pamphlets off to his right.

 

“Well it looks like you’re all set. You just go out that door and then left up the stairs, the room numbers are marked. It’s such a lovely time of year for you to visit, ever so romantic for couples.” The woman declares, returning to exchange the paper for the key. Back to her chair, the screws giving way again.

 

Jughead nods, he’s confident the tips of his ears are now red beneath his hat. His grasp on the keys between his fingers, tightening. “Thank you.” His eyes flicker to Betty, who’s cheeks are now red, illuminated by the various antique lamps. He coughs, a strange feeling gnawing in the pit of his stomach as he follows the line of the flush before it disappears behind the collar of her coat.

 

Shaking his head, he goes to pick up the bags, gesturing to Betty which way to go. She relays her own thanks to the woman, tugging on the collar that his eyes can’t seem to stray away from. The older woman smiles, her eyes already closing from tiredness.

 

Jughead holds the door to the stairwell open for Betty, chuckling nervously. The layers he’d worn to protect him, suddenly feeling stifling. “That was weird, right?”

 

Betty looks back towards him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips and he can’t stop the onslaught of thoughts entering his head. “Yeah, really…weird.” She matches his nervous laugh. “I mean she was probably confused from her nap and I think her glasses definitely looked a bit dirty. She probably didn’t know what she was looking at!” Jughead’s not sure if she’s trying to comfort herself through this assessment, or him. But he can’t help but find himself nodding along.

 

“Right, she was obviously mistaken.” He adds, because it would be _ridiculous_ to assume they were a couple.  However, the unmistakable ache underneath his ribs doesn’t seem to be going away and for the life of him, he can’t stop himself from picturing how beautiful she looked that night in London.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

They don’t discuss it after that, which Jughead is fine with. After all, what would he say to her. Yes, he feels the overwhelming surge of love every time he looks at her. Yes, she makes his heart ache in a way he’s not experienced. Maybe sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he liked to watch her long eyelashes flutter against her cheek while she dreamed. But did that mean he loved her or he’s in love with her? Or was it just his mind clinging onto some kind of hope, while his body eroded away into nothing.

 

In an attempt to clear his head and unjumble the thoughts that are plaguing him, he suggests they get some air. Betty agrees, discussing the options she’d found from reading through the pamphlets, when they checked in the day before. So, after breakfast they hire bicycles. Betty chuckles as his beanie pokes haphazardly through the gaps in the helmet and just like that he feels the tension in his shoulder dissipate. In retaliation he raps against hers with his knuckles, making her nose scrunch and her head bob around with the weight of it.

 

They take what’s said to be one of the easier routes, because neither have ridden bikes in a while and Jughead is no longer capable of coping with the physicality that would be required on one of the more difficult paths.

 

Following the track, they find themselves riding past a disused railway and through a short tunnel. The wind hitting their face, giving them pink cheeks and red noses. As they come out onto a lake, they park up their bikes and take a break on a nearby bench. There’s a slight mist in the air, sitting on top of the smooth liquid black lake. It winks at them in the winter sun, rippling slightly in the wind.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_Unlike other children, he doesn’t learn how to ride a bike before he’s ten. His own father had never taken an interest in such things, a bottle of clear alcoholic liquid more appealing than spending time with his son. Up until that point, Jughead had got around the problem by hitching a ride on the back of Archie’s bike. His feet taking purchase on the pegs at the centre of his back wheel._

_Instead, it happens after he’s moved into the Andrews’ residence. He approaches Fred during the summer break between school years, requesting to learn with his help. He agrees, of course. He loved Jughead as much as he loved his own son. So every day after he returned from work, they would practice using Archie’s own bike with the red head standing nearby to offer continuous encouragement._

_By the end of the summer, he’s mastered it and on Christmas morning later that year, he comes down to find his very own bicycle in the living room, leaned against the fire place with a large red bow stuck to the handle bars. That winter break, they pack their bikes into Fred’s car and he drives Jughead, Betty and Archie down the coast. It’s near freezing and deserted, because no one goes to the sea in winter but to Jughead it was one of the first times he felt truly at peace._

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty passes him a small cup full of tea, from the flask that she’d stored in her backpack. Her eyebrows raising in question, asking where his mind had disappeared to.

 

He takes a sip of the tea, feeling the hot liquid scald his throat slightly. “Remember when we took our bikes to the coast?”

 

She smiles, nodding. “Archie had to ride back in his pants, because he fell on the sand.”  Jughead chokes on his drink, laughing. Recalling the way Fred had made Archie strip behind the car door, then spend the journey back wrapped in an old towel of Betty’s that happened to be on the back seat and decorated with sparkly stars.

 

When they get up to leave, his breathing calmed enough to make the journey back, Jughead takes a picture of the landscape with the bikes clearly in view. He sends it to Fred with the phrase _“thanks for all you’ve done.”_ He knows it doesn’t convey exactly the effect Fred’s had on his life. But when they speak on the phone that evening, Jughead smiles as he listens to Fred telling about his day and he knows Fred understands.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

That night they eat dinner in the small village near the hotel, paying a visit to the small tourist shops that stay open late. Jughead notices Betty flipping through the post cards displayed on the rack by the door, a small smile on her face as she observes the views shown in the pictures. The sensation of love pangs in his chest again and just like that he knows. He’s hopelessly _in_ love with, Betty Cooper. So when her back is turned, looking through the ornaments on the other side of the shop. He searches through the rack finding the perfect post card, a view of where they’d been earlier that day, before taking it up to the till.

 

He gives it to her later that evening. Instead of an early night, they take up a sofa on the patio outside the hotel. A charcoal scent filling their nostrils, as the fire pit in front of them blazes and the stars’ drift across the sky.

 

Jughead fishes the card out of his jacket pocket, flattening it across his thigh. “Hey, Betts?” He can feel the irregular beat of his heart echoing in his head.

 

Betty hums, tilting her head from looking up at the stars to search his eyes.

 

He gulps. This was the moment. “I got you this.” He thrusts it forward clumsily. “I saw you looking at them…in the shop. Well, I thought it’d be a nice reminder.”

 

A blush creeps onto the high points of her cheeks, only just visible in the crackle of the flames. She beams, taking it from him. The pounding of his heart only increases. “Thank you, Juggie.”

 

Jughead swallows again. “It’s ok. What I was really trying to say…was…”

 

“Mind if we join you?” A voice comes from the hotel patio doors. Jughead turns to look, seeing an older couple they’d passed briefly at breakfast. He nods, because how would he explain saying no. Could they just wait a minute because he was about to confess his love for his best friend, who may or may not love him back. So they sit opposite and Jughead can feel Betty’s eyes burning into him, with curiosity as hot as the fire in front of them.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

It wasn’t unconventional for Jughead to wake up, periodically throughout the night. He often woke up feeling restless. The shortness of breath he dealt with on a daily basis, made it difficult to sleep without propping his head up. Which in turn gave him neck pain, that he found hard to shake off.  So when he wakes up that night, he doesn’t find it unusual.

 

What he does find somewhat irritating, is the pounding headache that seems to be reverberating through his whole body. The fact he appears to have sweated through his clothes and onto the sheets, yet feels colder by the minute is a bit of a nuisance. Or maybe his mouth feeling like he’d eaten sand was the most annoying part. No, the most infuriating part was that he knew what this meant.

 

He walks on his slightly swollen feet to the bathroom, in search of water. He finds a small cup; he fills it before chugging it back in one go. That’s when he catches sight of himself in the reflection. He looks dead, actually dead. His eyes are sunken, dark circles surrounding them. He’s pale, paler than normal and he’s clammy. His shirt hangs loose, where it once fitted well. He blinks heavily, his bony knuckles turning white as he grips the counter from anger.

 

He couldn’t do this to Betty. It was a burden enough to have a _friend_ who was disappearing into the abyss. It was stupid to think he could have told her he loved her. Stupid to think they’d get a nice happy ending. His knuckles tighten on the counter as he feels tears leak from his eyes. The first tears he’s cried since his diagnosis. Not for himself or his illness. For her, because of what he wants to have with her. Because the love he feels, makes him want to live. Yet the choice is out of his hands.

 

When Betty finds him half an hour later, having woken up due to the lack of another body next to her. She doesn’t question why his eyes are bloodshot or why he’s curled into the corner of the bathroom. Instead she finds the thermometer out from her wash bag and places it in his mouth. Her only indication that she feels unsteady, is the slight shake of her hands shake as she strokes his damp hair away from his face.

 

She sits on the closed toilet as he showers, only leaving to retrieve him some clean clothes, to allow him to change into them and to change her own clothes. They leave their keys by the unmanned desk, with a note indicating their early check out. Betty tells him she’ll ring back later about getting him a refund for the extra days, but he doesn’t care about the money and tells her as much. As she settles him into the car, he notices her hair is down and curling from when she’d washed it the night before. It reminds him of her curly pigtails from when they met and that’s what he dreams about as the car starts and his eyes close.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty drives the hour and a half away from the Peak District to Manchester. She knows Jughead would laugh if she told him she’d thoroughly researched the best hospitals nearby, if he’d felt unwell. There were closer hospitals, but Manchester is also where Archie is at University and she’s sure Jughead would want him there. Always the three musketeers. 

 

They admit Jughead to a ward, citing the issue as a chest infection. Which ordinarily would not be a problem for a healthy person. However, with the added fever it was set to keep him in for a few days. Giving them time to pump him full of antibiotics and pain medication. Which he would have refused, if he was in any fit state to do so. Archie arrives that afternoon, when he’s asleep. Betty spots the redhead wandering round the wards. She detangles herself from the uncomfortable plastic chair and herds him into one of the communal spaces to prevent disturbing Jughead.

 

They watch the view of the car park from the window they’re standing at. Betty can’t help but notice the way everything looks so miniature from up high.  “Did you call my dad?” Archie asks, pushing his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

 

She nods, her eyes flicking to him and then back to a range rover trying to reverse into a space half a size too small. “Yeah, he offered to come up. But I said it’s just minor and he’ll be out in a few days, so there’s not much point. Besides, I know he has that job on at the minute and Jughead mentioned how difficult it is to get constructions jobs around winter. I didn’t want him to be out of money.”

 

“He wouldn’t have minded.” Archie replies, shuffling his feet on the tiles.

 

Betty shrugs. “It’s probably for the best. Anymore visitors and I think Jughead will go into a full blow psychotic rage. He’s swapping between sleeping, high on his pain meds and being an eleven out of ten on the sarcastic arsehole rating scale, when he’s tapped out on said pain meds.” She pauses, the permanent lump in her throat making it hard to swallow. “He hates hospitals.”

 

The redhead sniffs. “You did the right thing, Betty. Sometimes what Jughead wants, isn’t what he needs.” He pulls her into a hug, the scent of something overly perfumed filling her nostrils. She looks up at him, a weird expression on her face.

 

“Are you wearing aftershave?”

 

Archie turns beet red, a bashful smile appearing on his face. “Yeah, Veronica…”

 

“There you are! I’ve been all over. I was starting to think you’d disappeared!” A dark haired girl appears in the doorway, a balloon reading _get well soon_ in hand. Betty notes how Archie brightens at hearing her voice. He releases her from his grip to reach out for his girlfriend.

 

“You must be Veronica.” Betty declares, a warm smile on her face.

 

Veronica smiles back, intertwining her free hand with Archie’s. “And you must be Betty! Archie has told me so much about you and Jughead. I could just let Archie come alone, knowing one of his best friends is in peril.”

 

Betty eyes flick towards Archie’s sheepish expression and goes about making conversation with Veronica. She’s easy to talk to and Betty’s happy to see how much she truly cares for Archie. When Veronica disappears to the bathroom, Betty turns to look at Archie. “She seems really nice, Arch.” Archie sighs, a love struck grin appearing on his face.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty leads them into the quiet room, where Jughead is. She’d managed to sway them into giving him a room to himself instead of being on a bay, knowing he liked being able to see out the window. His blue eyes peaked open, sensing their presence. At seeing Betty, he quickly pulls the oxygen mask back up round his face which he must have removed when she’d left him alone.

 

Archie leans down to hug him briefly, a calmness washes over Jughead at the familiarity. His nose scrunches under the plastic mask. “Are you wearing aftershave?”

 

The redhead scoffs, looking over to Betty who smiles at her knees. “I can get you some of your own, if you want.”

 

Jughead shakes his head. “You smell like a brothel.”

 

Archie takes a seat, motioning to Veronica to sit beside him. “Veronica got it me and it wasn’t cheap.”

 

He shrugs, grasping his pain relief button. Pressing to no avail. “Well, you know what they say money can’t buy taste.” Archie taps Veronica’s knee comfortingly, she shakes her head as though to say _don’t worry about it_. While Betty offers a look in the way of apologises.

 

“Veronica got you a balloon, Jug.” Betty suggests, attempting to divert his attention. Jughead’s dazed eyes search around the room for it, finally landing on Veronica. She offers it to him and Betty’s head fills with images of a small dark haired boy, as he grasps it between his fingers.

 

“Your eyebrows are very pointy.”

 

Veronica shakes her head, as though she hadn’t heard him clearly. “Thank you?”

 

He tilts his head to the side, surveying her face. “I wouldn’t take it as a compliment.”

 

Archie squeezes her knee again. “Reached your limit on those meds, buddy?”

 

Jughead tuts, his eyes squint as his attention turns to the window. “Unfortunately.”

 

“Sounds about right.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Once Jughead is back asleep, Archie suggests Betty go back to his flat for a shower and to stay the night. She’s uncomfortable leaving Jughead, but knows she’s not much use to him tired, so she agrees. Veronica offers to go with her, leading the way to the elevator. Betty chews nervously on her lip. “I’m sorry, he’s not usually this overtly offensive.” She weighs up her words, proceeding to add. “Well he is, just with a lot more intelligent word play.”

 

Veronica smiles shyly. “It’s ok. Like water off a duck’s back. If anything, he just reminded me I need a new eyebrow pencil.”

 

“It’s nice that you came, for Archie. He doesn’t really show how he feels but I know how much he’s hurting on the inside.” She pulls a piece of skin from her lip, the stinging sensation making her feel grounded.

 

“Betty?” She hums in response, getting to work on a new area of her lip. “It might not be my place to say. But don’t let too much time pass without telling him how you feel, because I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

 

She abandons mangling her lips. Her heart palpitating against her ribcage. “How did you know?”

 

“The way you look at him. Even though he is hopped up on drugs, he still looks at you like you hung the moon. So I wouldn’t worry about him not reciprocating your feelings.”

 

Betty feels the corners of her mouth turn up, involuntarily. “Thanks, Veronica.”

 

She taps Betty on the shoulder in a reassuring manner. “We’re friends now, Betty. You can call me Ronnie.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

When Jughead wakes again, it’s dark out. There’s a balloon floating by his head, that he doesn’t remember receiving and Archie’s dozing in the chair next to his bed. He shifts in his bed, trying to get comfortable. When he looks round again, Archie’s eyes are open.

 

He stretches into the air. “Betty went with Veronica, back to our flat for a shower and to get some sleep.”

 

Jughead nods, his head feeling fuzzy. “Veronica was here?”

 

“She got you that balloon.” Jughead nods again. He watches it bob around beside him, catching a glimpse at the phrasing scrawled on the plastic.

 

“Do you think I’ll get well soon?”

 

Archie clears his throat. Leaning over to grasp Jughead’s hand, minding the IV line as he squeezes gently. “I hope so, Jug.”

 

He squeezes back. “Me too.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty returns to the hospital early the next morning, leaving Veronica at the flat. She feels substantially fresher than she had the previous day, despite the unreliability of hot water at Archie’s student accommodation. Jughead is still asleep when she gets to his room. As is Archie who’s half sitting, half laying sprawled across two of the plastic chairs, his clothes dishevelled from what she assumes has been a restless sleep.

 

She shakes the redhead awake, telling him to go home and get some rest. He nods, telling her he’d be back later. His blood shot eyes blinking heavily, as he stumbles away from the ward. She takes his place, watching Jughead’s face move in accordance to whatever dream he’s having. The plastic mask fogging up from his heavy breathing. Betty watches him until a nurse appears to take his temperature, effectively waking him from his slumber. She tells him, he’s in the normal range which makes Betty’s heart sing.

 

Betty reads him the newspaper, she’d purchased from the shop in the entrance, noting how he’s watching her. Not dissimilar to how he was looking at her on the London Eye, lovingly.

 

He clears his throat, to get her attention. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

 

Her eyebrows crease together in confusion and he thinks she looks beautiful, even like that. “Ready for what?”

 

Jughead swallows, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come out of his mouth. He’s glad he’s not currently on the heart monitor, because he’s positive it would give the game away. “Ready to leave you.”

 

Her eyebrows crease further and he feels the urge to kiss away the lines. “What are you saying?”

 

He inhales deeply, his palms feeling suddenly clammy under her watchful gaze. “I’m saying, I love you Betty. As more than a friend, I’m _in_ love with you. And I was scared to tell you because I was trying to protect you and I didn’t want you to get hurt. But I want you and I want to be here for you, unless you don’t feel the same way. Then this is going to get really awkward, really fast.”

 

When he looks back at her, she’s smiling. Her own heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears. “Jug?”

 

“Yeah, Betts?” He answers, watching as she clambers onto his small hospital bed. She tucks herself into his side and he breathes in the scent of her shampoo.

 

Betty looks up at him, feeling his warm breath against her top lip. “Stop talking.” He nods, eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes. He places his free hand against her soft cheek, his thumb stroking softly against her cheekbone leaning down to press a kiss against her nose. A smile appears on her face, as he brushes his nose against hers.

 

“I’m _in_ love with you too.”

 

She watches a bright smile appear on his face before he leans in again, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his warm lips against hers and heat fills her cheeks, allowing the sensation to overwhelm her wholly and completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story please feel free to leave kudos or comments, or both! I will love you eternally.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr - aisforr.tumblr.com


	5. York and The Coast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter time! Kind of emotional, a little bit sexy? I don't know. You guys be the judge!

It’s November when Jughead is discharged. On the condition that he reduce the amount of physical activity he does. Betty knows, he’s more than ready to leave after spending a week in hospital. Having already expressed repeatedly how sick he is of being poked and prodded, within an inch of his life. But she couldn’t help voicing her concerns that carrying on with the trip would only make him worse. He had ultimately quashed her woes. As he always does. Making the point that whatever was going to happen, would happen either way with or without the road trip. He’d hugged her closer to him on the small hospital bed, stroking her hair away from her face, telling her he just wants to spend as much time with her as possible. After that she couldn’t really deny him.

 

“So can you promise me the next time I see you, won’t be in a hospital?” Archie asks, loading the last of Jughead’s possessions into the boot of Betty’s car.

 

“I’ll try my best.” Jughead replies, leaning heavily on the cane they’d provided him with at the hospital. They’d also suggested that he have an oxygen tank full time. Naturally he’d adamantly refused. Which led to a heated conversation with Archie and Betty, after which he’d agreed to using the cane, only when he really needed it.

 

Archie nods, curtly. Swiftly closing the boot. “You better.” He makes his way around the side of the small car, to engulf Jughead in a short but bruising hug.

 

Jughead scratches the back of his neck, exhaling heavily after nearly having the life squeezed out of him by Archie. “Will you tell Veronica, sorry again. About…the eyebrow thing.”

 

Archie shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, mate.” Looking over to Betty who’s watching from the driver’s side of the car. “She said either of you can text or call her anytime.”

 

Betty smiles, noticing the way Jughead’s eyes move towards her instinctively following Archie’s eye line. “Tell her thanks, from both of us.”

 

Archie makes his way around the car to embrace Betty, Jughead disappearing into the passanger seat of the car. He’d made clear he was capable of driving, but Betty really was having none of it.

 

“You’re good for each other. I was about ready to push your heads together, if it didn’t happen soon.” Archie replies, loud enough to be heard by Jughead. Causing a loud snort to come from inside the car. When they told Archie they were together, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as Betty had anticipated. She didn’t think it’d be awkward because Archie held any kind of candle for her, that had never been the case. More awkward because she had never had a boyfriend. He’d just looked at her with a knowing grin, as if to say _I knew this would happen eventually._ It had just been her and Jughead dancing around each other for the better part of ten years. The only kiss she’d ever had was from Jughead, a few months after they met.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_It happened on the last day of school, before Christmas break. They’d been allowed to play outside for the first time in a long while, the rain they’d been experiencing finally letting up. So they’d donned their coats, that had the mittens attached but Jughead never wore. He’d told her he didn’t need them, because the cold didn’t affect him. But in reality it was because he liked holding her hand, without the restriction. It meant he was able to feel more of her hand through her own gloves._

_They’d played hopscotch on the frosty playground until their legs were tired, retreating to a small bench under the big oak tree for an overdue rest. He squeezed her hand before letting go, his own small hand searching through the deep pockets of his winter coat for the item he knew was in there. Betty had given Christmas cards out to the whole class and the teacher a week prior. Alice was nothing if not prompt. Always seeking to present her family in a good light to the outside world, when the opportunity presented itself._

_It was crumpled, when he pulled it out his pocket but Betty didn’t care. She can recollect the feeling of warmth radiating through her chest at the sight of the small red envelope. He smiled at her anxiously as she took it from his hand. She smiled back brightly showing off the new teeth that had just grown in, after the loss of her baby teeth._

_“Thanks, Juggie.” She’d said, before leaning in to place a smacking kiss against his cold bitten lips. His smile wasn’t anxious after that._

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty pulls back from the hug, to look up at the redhead. “We’ll see you soon, Arch.”

 

Archie nods, his eyes hard as though to give nothing away. “Look after him.”

 

She smiles. “I will.”

 

He licks his bottom lip, bumping her shoulder with his own. “Look after yourself too.”

 

She knows he worries about her. Because he knows how much she worries about Jughead. So she nods. “I will.” It’s a short conversation but she thinks about it for a long while after the hospital has disappeared from view. She hopes she doesn’t break her promise.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Betty takes them North East to York. It’s a mixture of old and new. High street shops intermingled with timber framed buildings that lean more one way, than the other. After checking into their reasonably priced hotel, their first stop is the University. It’s nice enough and the courses seem interesting. But she thinks the architecture is too modern to have a history. She likes history. In addition, the idea of sharing a bathroom with five other people, is less than appealing. It doesn’t compete with what she saw at Oxford, so gives it four on Jughead’s rating scale. About on the same level as watching a horror film with Archie, who is a real screamer and hates anything gory.

 

Following a break for sustenance, they take a walk along the cobbled path. Dipping in and out of the multitude of old buildings. They find a fudge making shop, where Jughead surprises her with the lemon sherbet flavour. He remembers it’s her favourite sweet and knows she always keeps a packet in her chest of drawers, underneath the carefully folded winter jumpers away from Alice’s prying eyes.

 

After that it starts to rain. Because it’s November and it would be silly to assume the sun would stay out for long. So she suggests the railway museum. She’s not particularly interested in going, but the weather isn’t permitting much outdoor activities. Jughead just gives her a funny look, gesturing to his cane. “I may be hobbled and ageing, Betts. But I am certainly not old enough to start finding trains fascinating.” She simply laughed before kissing the look off his face, which he was more than happy to submit to.

 

Instead they end up at the York Minster. She knows Jughead is tired, his heavy breathing echoing in her ear interrupted only by his need to cough. She almost suggests he should have said yes to that oxygen tank after all. But as they sit in one of the pews, observing the gothic architecture and the stained glass windows, he reaches down. Grasping one of her hands, squeezing it in comfort. She looks up to find him observing her, a shy smile on his face as though he’s a child caught with his hand in the sweets jar.

 

He brings her hand to his face, pressing a kiss against it. “You’re beautiful, Betty.”

 

Betty flushes. Her heart hammering in her chest. She’s still not entirely used to him saying those words to her and she almost hopes she never gets _used_ to it. Because she could live forever in the feeling of his adoration. It makes her regret she’d not voiced her feeling sooner and wish that they were not like a bomb on a ticking clock. Just waiting to implode. Sometimes she feels like she can hear it. Mocking her. _Tick._ Saying this won’t last, however much they both want it to. _Tock._ The decision is just out of their grasp. _Tick._ As much as it’s filled with love, their relationship will always be tainted with grief. _Tock_. Grief for what their relationship could have been. _Tick_. Grief for what Jughead has lost due to his illness. _Tock_. Grief for the possibility of his death. _Tick…_

 

 She can feel herself spiralling. Even the candles above their heads are watching her. Flickering as the wick burns down to nothing. She wonders if they’re destined for the same fate. She hates that something so simple as him paying her a compliment can make her this way. She knew it wasn’t rational. It had also happened on another occasion, when the nurse came in to his hospital room to offer him a biscuit. He’d politely said no which had sent her into a complete spiral about how much had changed, until he reminded her he didn’t even like ginger biscuits. Which she knew, obviously. Telling her “ _If it had been chocolate, I would have asked for the whole packet_.”

 

He knows her well. Which is why she’s not surprised when she’s brought back to the present by the hammering of his heart against her palm. It always works. A reminder that he’s here. He’s with her. He loves her and she loves him. Jughead curls her into his chest, his free arm coming round her back. He reaches into his pocket with the other, producing a paper bag full of lemon sherbet fudge. She blinks up at him, eyes bleary from unshed tears as she feels the strong thud absorbing into her skin. He gives her a small smile, shaking the bag at her. So she takes a piece, absorbing the tangy taste as he presses a kiss against the side of her head.

 

“Worry gives small things a big shadow.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

After staying the night in York, they drive to the coast. They check into a small bed and breakfast, smiling gleefully when the woman behind the desk comments how nice of a couple they are. Jughead suggests they take a walk to stretch their legs, so they do. It’s cold and the wind is fierce but they sit on the pier all the same. Watching the waves lash against the sands as the few people, that are as silly as they are to be at the coast this time of year, walk by. Pausing their people watching only to spear chips from the paper cone, Jughead is holding.

 

Betty licks the salt from her cold lips, debating the topic of conversation. She’d thought about asking him before, but had never found the right time. Now in the peaceful silence, curled into his chest with a full stomach and the taste of vinegar at the back of her throat. It seemed as good a time as any.

 

“Do you miss them?” Them. He knows who she’s talking about. She doesn’t use their names. She knows the damage _they_ did to him and truthfully, she doesn’t think they deserve to be humanised.

 

He swallows the chip he had in his mouth. “I don’t know.” She squeezes his free hand with hers for reassurance. A brief smile graces his lips at the familiar action. “Is it bad if I say no?”

 

Betty shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” And that’s the truth.

 

Jughead takes a shuddering breath and she’s knows it’s because he’s about to say something that makes him vulnerable. He trusts her, always has and always will. But it never stops him pausing for a minute before coming out with it, and she hates _them_ for that. Not for making it difficult for her to understand how he’s feeling. But for making it difficult for him to put his feelings into words. For him to be able to say how he feels without the small niggling feeling in the back of his brain. Like an itch he can never quite scratch. The one that tells him everyone leaves him in the end.  

 

“We were never a family.” He states, as confidently as he would say the sky is blue. The grass is green. Yet holds a much deeper meaning. She doesn’t expect him to continue, until he does. Eyes never leaving the view of the sea, under the soft glow of the evening light.

 

“Yes, by blood. But whenever I was in that house, I never felt like I was…home. Archie and Fred are home. You’re home.”

 

She places a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth, a jolt of electricity running through veins at the contact. At the reminder that she can do that now, kiss him whenever she likes. The familiar warmth spreading across her chest that always comes with his presence. That began on that day they had their first kiss.

 

“You feel like home to me too, Juggie.” A tingle runs down his spine at her words and the itch on his brain seems to dull.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

They spend the next day at the various amusements and arcades along the sea front. He wins her a stuffed bear on the third try and she can’t not smile every time she sees it’s furry head sticking out the top of her handbag. By the end of the night, the small town by the sea is deserted and Betty finds herself on the frosty sand under the moonlight in an animated debate with Jughead.

 

“Come on, Betts! Live a little.” He declares, exasperated.

 

“Living a little is getting hypothermia from icy cold water?” Betty asks, a frown etched into her face as she surveys the dark water in front of her.

 

“Exactly!”

 

The frown is accompanied by a crease between her eyebrows. “Why do you want to do this again?”

 

“Swimming in the moonlight, with my girlfriend. Is that not romantic?” Her stomach swoops at the mention of the word _girlfriend,_ but it doesn’t remove the frown from her face. It does twitch slightly, but she wouldn’t admit to that.

 

He grins at her, expectantly. “And…I love you?” It’s more of a question, than a statement. But that does it. The frown that was on her face transforms into a shy grin, that grows all the way up to her eyes. A blush creeping onto her cheeks and another familiar roll of her insides at _those_ words coming from his lips.

 

“We’re not going in for too long. You’ll catch something and I don’t want you back in hospital.” She reprimands, the smile on her face making her look anything but fierce. Jughead nods hastily. Swiping a kiss against her forehead that makes the flush she’s already sporting, seep down her neck.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

She rids herself of her heavy duty coat and woollen accessories first. The cool air on her neck, making the hairs there stand to attention. Her shoes come off next. The sensation of the sand smooth under her feet. She stumbles on her feet, attempting to remove her sock using one leg to steady her. The sound of Jughead chuckling behind her can be heard, along with the distinct whooshing of fabric coming off a body. She can feel his gaze on her back, as she shimmies out of her jeans. The freezing wind hitting her bare legs, sending a shiver up her spine. Contrasting the zinging feeling of her hot blood pumping through her body.

 

He’s seen her in a swimsuit before, several times. Often on hot summer days, when Archie would fill the paddling pool for them to lounge around in. They even shared a bath together when they were very young and he’d somehow convinced her jumping in puddles was fun. Which had been true, until they’d returned to the house and saw Alice’s face. They’d not done it again after that.

 

So she’s not nervous. Because it’s Jughead and Jughead is…well, Jughead. But she does find herself taking a deep breath before reaching to the bottom of her jumper. It comes off over her head quickly, disturbing her neat ponytail. She reaches up to stroke the stray hairs into place, before turning to look at him. He’s stood in just his boxers now, with an intense gaze of love reserved only for her.

 

Even in the darkness she can see the faint discolouration in his skin, from where he was they’d taken blood in the hospital. His ribs protruding, more than they probably should. He’s got a small patch of hair leading down to beneath the elastic waist band, that leaves heat pooling in her abdomen and the word _beautiful_ crossing her mind. To her, he’s beautiful.

 

He cracks a smirk, watching the way her eyes follow the lines of her body. Not dissimilar to the way his eyes had, hoping she wouldn’t notice. But she did and her stomach fluttered in the way, his was now. He reaches a hand out, which she takes gladly pulling her body towards him. His own cold hands graze her skin and despite the temperature, leave a trail of fire against her flesh. It’s not the first time she’s seen him shirtless. But as the first time since their relationship changed from friends to romantic, it meant a lot more. She couldn’t help herself but imagine how it would feel to have him above her, his hands exploring her body. Making the heat in her lower belly grow to a raging fire.

 

He presses a kiss against her lips and a tingle flows down her spine, the cold no longer bothering her. “You’re killing me, Betty.”

 

“Poor choice of words, Juggie.” She replies, her body thrumming from the effect of his lips against her. He laughs and she can feel her mouth turning upwards at the contagious sound.

 

“Well, Shall we?” Jughead asks, watching her flushed face glisten under the moonlight.

 

Betty kisses him again, intertwining their fingers as they turn to watch the expansive twinkling water. She takes a deep breath. “We shall.” In that moment they feel like normal teenagers. A couple in love. Grief nothing but a distant memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story please feel free to leave kudos or comments, or both! I will love you eternally.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr - aisforr.tumblr.com
> 
> P.S. I also hate ginger biscuits


	6. Durham and Northumberland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter time! As they venture further North, things get a bit more heated! Hope you like it!

Subsequent to their visit to the coast, having convinced Betty he was capable of driving and definitely not suffering from any waterborne illnesses after their brief dip into the sea, Jughead drives them further North to Durham.  The University itself is not dissimilar to what they’d seen at Oxford. Seeing the small smile that plays on Betty’s lips when she sees the buildings that are no doubt full of history, makes Jughead’s stomach fill with butterflies.

 

“Does it make it more or less appealing than Oxford, that you’d graduate where they filmed some of Harry Potter?” He asks, taking a seat on the bench outside the building they’d just looked around.

 

They’d already done a decent amount of walking and despite bringing his cane, it was safe to say he was tipping the scale at exhausted. It was cold, but he didn’t really mind. The view of the grounds under frost was enough to make it worth a red nose. Added with the opportunity to curl Betty into his side, a comfort to him as much as it was to her.

 

“Obviously more. What kind of question is that?” Betty teases, without even pausing to think about her answer. Making Jughead laugh loudly, disturbing a group of pigeons meandering on the grass in front of them.

 

“Archie would very clearly be Ron.”

 

Betty quirks an eyebrow. “Because he’s ginger?”

 

Jughead nods, smiling. “Right, but also Ron was always a loyal friend and so is Archie.” He pauses, before adding. “Plus they both eat a shit tonne.”

 

Betty throws her head back laughing, disturbing the pigeons again. Leading Jughead to think by now they must be getting increasingly annoyed. “Very true.”

 

He pulls her closer into his side, relishing the feeling of her snuggling further into his coat. “You’re clearly Hermione.”

 

Betty looks up at him, the eyebrow back to its raised position. “Because I like books?”

 

He shakes his head. “Because if you think about it, she basically led the whole operation. Me and Archie would never have survived without you.” The blush that he loves so much, rises on her cheeks.

 

She places a kiss against his fabric covered chest. It being the most convenient part of his body she can reach, without twisting her neck into a painful position. “So that makes you Harry.”

 

“We’ve both got the scar. Except mine isn’t on my head and is unfortunately not shaped like a lightning bolt. But I don’t think so, I’d probably be Malfoy or something. Dark and mysterious, minus the gelled back hair of course.”

 

He watches her mouth go from amused to serious. “I think you’re like Harry.”

 

It’s his turn to raise an eyebrow in question. “Yeah?”

 

He feels her lips press against his chest again, the corners of her mouth upturned. “Brave.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“So what would you rate it?” Jughead asks later that evening, spitting the toothpaste foaming in his mouth into the sink.

 

Betty considers the question, continuing to rub cream into her exposed neck. He can’t help but watch the way her hands caress the milky skin, wishing to put his lips there. He shakes his head flicking his eyes back to her face.

 

“I’d say a seven.” As good as the cupcakes they used to buy from the bakery, after school in their village.

 

Jughead looks at her confused, his voice muffled by the towel he’s drying his mouth on. “I thought you liked it more than Oxford, and you gave that an eight.”

 

Betty shrugs, avoiding his eye. “Oxford is closer.” Jughead’s confused look remains on his face as he puts the towel back on the hanging rail.

 

“I assumed you would have loved the idea of being further away from your mum.” He says, despite thinking he knows why she really would want to be closer to home.

 

She screws the top back on the glass pot, focusing on the way the ridges interact. Still not meeting his knowing gaze. “But that also means far away from you.”

 

He doesn’t say what he’s thinking. That he shouldn’t be part of the equation. Because wherever she goes, there’s the likelihood he’ll be far, far away. Not on this planet, kind of far away. Well, maybe, if he is to believe there’s something beyond. Somewhere people go when they die. Somewhere he might go, if the time comes.

 

He shakes his head, in an effort to clear his thoughts. “Did we not agree this was about your future, not mine?”

 

Betty turns round, her ponytail whipping him in the face slightly. “Why can’t they be the same thing?” It comes out as more of a whisper. Because she’s knows why. Because she thinks if she said it any louder he’d definitely be able to hear the lump in her throat catching on her words.

 

Because now, looking into his eyes as they gaze down her lovingly. She’s overcome with the emotion of loving him and the need to be close to him. The need to have _their_ future.

 

“Betts…” He whispers, his voice hoarse. The sound making heat pool in her stomach and her skin buzz with anticipation. She leans into him and Jughead can’t resist leaning down to press a minty fresh kiss against her lips. He really does intend it to be chaste. A comforting kiss. To say he wishes it was as easy as that, for _their_ future to be the same thing. Swooping down to press one short closed mouth kiss against her lips.

 

But then he can smell the vanilla scent of her cream. Feel the softness of her skin as he brings his hands up to cradle her face. He can’t stop himself from indulging in another kiss It’s soft, slow and dizzying all at the same time. How it makes her breath hitches slightly as she exhales through her nose, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks each time he pulls back to take in air.

 

Until there’s no breaks between their kisses and she’s tugging at the bottom of his pyjama shirt to pull his body closer to hers, if it’s even possible. He’s got her crowded against the counter top and he wonders briefly if it’s digging into her back. But then a pair of cool hands slip beneath the crumbled fabric adorning his body and he can’t think straight anymore. His skin prickling as the make their way across the expanse of his broad back. Then he feels her tongue, tentatively stroking against his bottom lip. The slight squeak that comes from her throat when his tongue brushes against hers only adds the swiftly hardening appendage in his pyjama trousers.

 

“Maybe we should slow down.” He speaks hurriedly against her lips, flushing red at his predicament.

 

Her eyes open, pupils blown with lust. She pulls back slightly, their lower halves still pressed together the sensation of his hardness against her thigh making it difficult to separate. She’d felt it before, often pressing into her back while they slept. But this time it felt like they were on the cusp of something more. “Do you not…Is it not…good?”

 

“There’s nothing I’d rather be doing, Betts.” He strokes the hair away from her face, watching the way her kiss induced swollen lips get sucked between her teeth. Trying to ignore the way it makes his lower half twitch. “But it’s perhaps a little too good.” Suggestively nodding downwards.

 

A shy smile appears on her face, her pink cheeks turning scarlet. “Just because it’s not as obvious, doesn’t mean you don’t have that effect on me too.”

 

He groans. Making his situation all the more painful and his resolve weaker. “I want to do this right, Betty.” He wants it to be what she deserves. Something to cherish and hold onto even if it’s the only time they get to be as physically and intimately close as they can be. No, he didn’t want it to be the only time. He wanted it forever. To be with her forever. But sometimes forever isn’t as long as you think it is.

 

She draws a hand out of his shirt to stroke the back of her hand against his slightly stubbly cheek. “It’ll be _right_ , as long as it’s with you, Juggie.”

 

He sighs. Nuzzling closer into her hand, pressing a kiss against it. “Just humour me, ok?”

 

She presses a chaste kiss against his lips, reminding him of where they’d been not moments ago. “Alright.” She smiles up at him.  “I love you, you know.”

 

Jughead smiles back, warmth radiating through is body. “I love you too.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

When they set off the next day, Jughead insists they visit Newcastle on their way to Northumberland. Claiming they can’t pass through this part of the country without seeing the Angel of the North. The sky is grey and has several ominous looking clouds, set to downpour. But there’s still a few tourists wandering around, their waterproof jackets crinkling in the wind as they go about taking photographs of the sculpture.

 

“Well?” Jughead asks, out of breath. Leaning heavily on his cane as they reach the steel angel.

 

Betty quirks her head to the side, ponytail swinging. “Well, what?”

 

“What do you reckon?” He asks, gesturing to the frame with his cane.

 

She shrugs her shoulders; her attention being drawn to it. “It’s very large.”

 

 “I hope once you go to University, you can give a more articulate opinion than that.” Jughead laughs, watching the way her arms cross of her coat covered body in response.

 

“You try then.”

 

He turns to look at it, squinting his eyes as though to look as if he’s concentrating hard. “It’s very oppressive.”

 

Betty bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling, keeping her voice level. “Because?”

 

“It’s looking down on us.” He suggests, before Betty sees the light bulb go off in his head. Emphasised by the finger he’s pointing at her, a smirk on his face. “Like society looks down on today’s youth.”

 

Her eyebrows go up and she can almost taste blood from how hard she’s biting her cheek. “Clearly.”

 

“What can I say, Betts. All those times we had art class with Mr Burridge, obviously stuck with me.”

 

Betty barks a laugh. Unable to help herself. “You and Archie just used to play who can hit Betty with screwed up balls of paper first.”

 

Jughead does his best to appear shocked. “I resent that accusation.” He says, before the smirk reappears.  “We also played a lot of hangman.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Following their stop at the Angel of the North, they carry on further towards the Scottish border. Coming to a bed and breakfast not far from Northumberland National Park. From the outside it appears like any other village pub. Old stone covered with greenery, climbing up to the frost covered roof.

 

The room itself is nicer than what they had been staying in before. Betty wonders briefly if this is what Jughead was thinking of when he stopped them going further the other day, sending a tingle through her body. It has a large bed, with a leather headboard. White sheets spread across it, accented by purple cushions and a throw. The type you always end up kicking off in the middle of the night, but it was still nice to have the option to use it. Painted cream walls, with a deep violet feature colour behind the bed. White trimmings in the bedside tables and soft lighting overhead.

 

He’s still stood by the door, anxiously watching her movements. She knows he’s looking at her, waiting for her approval. So she flops down onto the bed, taking her bag with her. Smiling at him.

  
“It’s lovely, Juggie.”

 

His body visibly relaxes. “Yeah?”

 

She nods. “Yeah.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

That evening Jughead instructs her to dress warm as he has a surprise.

Following a meal at the pub below their room, he drives them through Northumberland National Park. Parking the car on a gravel covered area, he grabs his cane and a backpack from the boot. Proceeding to lead Betty down a well-trodden path using his phone to light the way. She doesn’t have a blindfold over her eyes like she did for his surprise in London but she can’t see much under the cover of darkness.

 

She feels grass crush under her heavy duty winter boots. “I hope you’re not going to murder me.”

 

Jughead squeezes her hand, laughing into the darkness. “Obviously not. I didn’t even bring any of my knives.”

 

Betty snorts. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going then?” She squints her eyes in hope she’ll something in the pitch black.

 

“Be patient.” He replies, those being the final words he speaks before they get to their destination.

 

It’s another fifteen minutes of crunching grass underfoot before they come to an opening. It’s still grass, but with the addition of what appears to be the outline of tents and people on the ground. Jughead drops her hand to bring the backpack off his shoulder. He produces the blanket they had used back they were in Bath. Filling Betty’s head with memories of children playing, cloud watching and laughing until they cried.

 

He gestures for her to hold his cane, proceeding to lay the blanket on the cold hardened grass. She passes him the cane back allowing him to use it as leverage to lower himself to the ground. He’s breathing heavily when he pats the fabric next to him for her to join. Then for the first time they both look upwards.

 

The undisturbed sky lays above them. Matte almost velvet darkness enhanced by the dusting of twinkling lights placed so precisely, that it almost looks as if someone decided when and where each star would lay. Clustered together to make the perfect picture.

 

Betty turns to look at Jughead, who is looking back at her. “Jug, this is amazing.”

 

“Good surprise?” She nods, feeling him bring an arm around her to pull her into him. “They say not many people get to see a _real_ night sky. Where it’s not polluted by lights from buildings and whatever else. I thought you might like it.”

 

She smiles into his chin, placing a kiss there. “Thank you, Juggie.”

 

He grins down at her. “Also thought you’d appreciate the fact we’re not camping. We’re not as young as we used to be.”

 

Betty tuts, placing another kiss against his jaw. “Speak for yourself, old man.” Jughead shakes his head, the feeling of Betty rubbing her nose against his neck soothing as they watch the night drift by.

 

\---------------------------------------------

_It was one of their many traditions as a group of friends. Every summer from when they met Archie, up until the summer just gone they would gather in the Andrews back garden for a ‘camping trip’. The three of them wedged into a cheap tent, Fred had bought by accident many years ago. Three heads of varying hair colour poking out the nylon fabric, with stomachs full of treats Alice Cooper would surely turn her nose up at, to watch the stars._

_Betty would point out all the constellations she could see. The ones she’d learnt from books. At a young age, Jughead remembers wondering why he had no books in his house. Until he became old enough to understand. Why they had no books. Why the television had disappeared. Why the little jewellery his mother had left behind, was gone. Anything worth money, was worth selling in his father’s eyes. For that sweet, sweet taste of bitter alcohol._

_He liked those camping trips. Before he moved into the Andrews full time, it meant he didn’t have to go back to his house. It meant he was safe. He was with people who loved him. Not people who saw him as a burden. And as he watched fizzy drink spurt from Archie’s nose, caused by Vegas’ appearance to lick a strip from Betty’s chin to forehead, he found himself wishing to be in this moment forever._

\---------------------------------------------

 

After staying to watch the stars until gone midnight, they return to the hotel room. She’s on him as soon as he shuts the door. As much as he enjoys it, the pace at which she’s going, the way she had been uncharacteristically forward about wanting this. He can’t help the feeling of itch in his brain growing again, telling him maybe they were rushing. Doing this because he might not be here tomorrow. He doesn’t want her to regret it.

 

So he grasps her by the shoulders, unpinning her arms from behind his neck to put her at a safe distance. Safe enough that he wouldn’t change his mind, without first speaking it.

 

“I think we should talk…first.”

 

She looks dazed from what they’d been doing not moments ago and confused at why he’d stop them. He’d planned for this to happen. She licks at her swollen lips, clearing her throat. “About?”

 

Jughead reaches up to find his hair uncovered, fingering through it to comb down the parts she’d been pulling at. Instead of speaking directly to Betty, he looks to the ground. At the grey beanie that she’d knocked off. “Well, aren’t you nervous?”

 

“Of course I am.” He hears her say, shuffling a step closer to him on the carpet. So he takes another step backwards, not seeing the way hurt flashes in her eyes. “But I thought it’d be ok, because it’s us.”

 

“I just don’t want us to do this for the wrong reasons.” He mumbles, still looking at the beanie.

 

“What are the _wrong_ reasons?” The emphasis she puts on the word _wrong_ indicating her irritation is mounting.

 

“Don’t you think we might be speeding this up, because of our situation?” He doesn’t outright say it but she knows what he means.

 

“I thought we were doing this because we love each other.” Her voice now an octave higher.

 

He looks up at her finally, her voice catching on the lump in her throat that is about as big as the one in his own. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

 

Her eyes are glassy. He hates making her cry. “What?”

 

He coughs. “Look at me Betty. I’m fucked. I’m eighteen and I use a cane. I cough blood, my feet are about three time the size they should be, I’m tired constantly. I ache all over and that’s not even mentioning the amount of meds I take every day. As much as I want to be here with you, it doesn’t look like my body is cooperating. I’m trying to save you from this.”

 

A lone tear trickles down her heated cheeks. “I don’t need saving from you.” She hastily wipes at her wet skin. He wishes he could kiss the tears away. “When are you going to learn there’s two people in this relationship and that I can make decisions for myself.” She pushes past him, quickly picking her pyjamas from the bed and slamming the bathroom door shut behind her. Leaving him alone in the darkened room, wishing he really was Harry Potter and had a Time-Turner handy.


	7. Edinburgh and Glencoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty descriptive and not so heavy on the dialogue which I didn't realise until now but I still hope you enjoy it! Also has some smut which I have not written before and I hope it doesn't go down like a lead balloon. Let me know!

They don’t fight. It wasn’t to say they never had disagreements, they had disagreements. But it was always silly things. Like why they can’t order pineapple on their pizza. Because it’s disgusting, Jughead always said. But Betty liked it. Who’s closer to the television remote to change the channel. Betty’s argument was that Jughead has longer arms. Whose turn it is to tell Archie that the new tune he thinks he’s come up with all on his own, is in fact the latest Ed Sheeran song that had been playing on the radio the day before.

 

Betty wonders if this is what Jughead is thinking about too. She knows he’s not asleep, despite it being the middle of the night. The clock resting on the bedside table is telling her it’s just after four. When he sleeps, he snuffles. Which she’s always found be quite cute. In addition, he often wakes up to roll into a different position or to get up completely to ward of the insomnia he suffers with. But there’s been none of that. Just them laying as far apart as they can be without rolling off the bed, the sound of their breathing filling the silence.

 

She knows his aim is to protect her. He can’t help himself. She can’t really resent him for that. But she knows what she’s in for and he doesn’t seem to understand that. That she knows their forever may not be the _literal_ forever. As long as it’s _theirs_ , she’d take it. However, long or short it may be. Yes, the thought of him leaving her makes her whole body hurt. But it’s not a definite. It’s a maybe. A possibility. A perhaps. Their future is theirs to create and shape into whatever they want it to be and they can’t spend any more time dwelling on the maybes. He’d hit a nerve last night, this morning, whenever it was. He didn’t want her to _regret_ it. The only thing she’ll ever regret is not using the time they have together to do what they love, to be with who they love and to be happy.

 

At that moment she feels a larger hand take her smaller one in its grasp and squeeze. She looks to her left to find him watching her over the wall of pillows she’d made between them, a few hours previous. It was a childish move now she thought about it. But she was younger then.

 

She squeezes back. He smiles, anxiously. Like he’s not sure if he should. She always thought he had a lovely smile.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

She rolls to her side, to see him better in the dim light. “Of?”

 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “That me loving you, is only going to cause you pain in the end.”

 

Betty sighs, reaching over the pillows to push a loose hair away from his face. “You loving me doesn’t hurt me, Jug. You pushing me away is what hurts me.”

 

He sighs, scraping long fingers against his scalp.  “I got all in my own head. I had this thought, that it could be…the only time. I wanted it to be right for you.”

 

“It’s not just about me, Jug. It’s about both of us.” He squeezes her hand.

 

“I didn’t want it to be associated with this…sadness. That follows me around.”

 

“Sometimes sadness and happiness go hand in hand.” She places a kiss against the back of his hand. “But you can’t let a _maybe_ stop you from doing what you want to do.”

 

A small smirk appears on his face. “Like _doing_ you?”

 

Betty scoffs at his crude joke, leaning over the pillows separating them to smack his chest. However, her foot gets caught underneath the sheet she’d been tangled in and she lands on him with a thud. He lets out a quiet “ _oomph.”_ She can’t stop the giggles that erupt, burying her face into his shoulder. Despite the prospect of a bruise in the shape of an elbow somewhere in the region of his ribs, he grins happily at the body on top of him as he strokes her messy hair from her face.

 

He leans down to press a soft kiss against the crown of her head. “I’m sorry for trying to make decisions, that involve both of us, without you.”

 

“I just need you to know that I’m under no illusions.” He nods. “But I still want _our_ forever. Even if it was only one hour, I’d still want it. Because you’re the love of my life, Jughead Jones.”

 

He swallows hard, placing a kiss against her nose. “You’re the love of my life, Betty Cooper.”

_Their_ forever starts with a misplaced kiss against Jughead’s chin. She was aiming for his mouth, using a grip on his pyjama shirt to pull herself up to be level with his face. The feel of the slightly rough texture of his skin against her plump lips setting a fire within her. Beginning with a tingle in her lips travelling south to create a molten pit within her lower stomach. Leading the way to deeper kisses, unrestrained kisses, kisses filled with need. The clashing of tongues and teeth, succumbing to their want for each other.

 

The kind of kisses that have his hair standing up on end as she knots her fingers into it, attempting to get closer to him still. His desire pressing into the fabric of her loose trousers as she lifts a leg over him to straddle his thighs, pausing the kiss to pant heavily. His hands disappear up the back of her shirt. One set of fingers digging into the indent of her waist as the other lovingly trails patterns up and down her spine. The perfect mixture of love and lust.

 

She licks at her swollen lips. He swallows hard. He grips her waist harder, rolling his hips against hers. She squeaks in response. He loves that sound, repeating his actions with more purpose. Receiving a hitch in her breath as she gasps. She leans down to press an open mouthed kiss against his jaw, hands slipping under his top to paint shapes into his skin. The sensation of her nails and the heat of her mouth sending a shiver down his spine. A groan escapes his mouth. 

 

Her lips continue down his neck, their hips sustaining the slightly off unpractised rhythm. Her mouth finds the fabric of his top. The disruption in her path causing her to remove her hands from his shirt, tugging at the hem. Telling him to _take it off_. He sits up without hesitation, the speed causing their hips to clash at a new angle. Sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. The offending object comes off over his head, leaving his hair more dishevelled than even before.

 

He watches her face for a moment, taking in her expression as she explores the newly exposed skin. The way she sucks her lip between her teeth being the final straw, gripping her face between his large hands pulling her mouth back to meet his. Sucking the bitten lip into his own mouth. Biting fresh marks into the skin and then soothing the sting with his tongue. She whimpers and grounds down onto him. He moans into her mouth.

 

Their lips separate again to allow him to press hot, wet kisses against the soft skin of her neck. Finding the spot under her ear that makes her squeal as he sucks a bruise into it. His hands find purchase on her waist, feeling the flesh prickle in response. Long fingers find the crease where her breast meets her middle, having forgone a bra.

 

She sucks in a breath. He leans back to survey her eyes in the darkness. Without giving herself time to overthink, she moves her arms away from his body to pull her top over her head. The crinkled fabric joining his own shirt somewhere across the room. His nostrils flare as she searches for his hand, smaller fingers encircling his wrist to bring it against her skin. He’s still. Watching her and waiting. She nods, dilated pupils flicking across his face as he looks to where his hand is, still covered by her own. She lets her arm drop by her side and he proceeds. One hand steadying her hips to a halt as he palms the skin, a moan escaping her throat when his fingers graze her nipple. He drops his hand and she’s about to allow the disgruntled noise come out her mouth, until his lips encloses around the skin. The throbbing in her body increasing as he sucks it into his mouth. Using his hand to massage the opposite breast, eliciting another moan from deep in her throat calling out to him _Juggie._ Her hands fly to his hair gripping and twisting the dark locks between her fingers, keeping him as _close_ as possible. The desire to be _closer_ and _closer_ burning brighter.

 

She drags his head back up, aligning their lips once more. He rolls them, securing her underneath his body. Ensuring she’s comfortable against the pillow before pressing a soft, loving kiss against her mouth. She smiles happily as he leaves her lips, finding the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the bruise he’d left earlier, her collarbone. Leaving more aggressive open mouthed kisses down to the waist band of her pyjama bottoms, that have her writhing beneath him. His hands slightly shaking as they close around the ruched elasticated fabric. He looks up towards her face to find her nodding in affirmation, a shy smile on her lips.

 

They come off, landing on the carpet behind him. He stills for a minute, taking in the view in front of him. Murmuring _beautiful_ into the quiet air. The shyness in her face dissipates immediately. She feels powerful. He leans forward to place a kiss against the fabric of her underwear, leading a finger over the wet fabric between her creamy thighs. Smiling when the sensation makes her hips buck. He groans _Betts_ and she whimpers, making it ever more difficult for him to control the need to take her then and there.

 

Instead he pats her side, silently asking her to raise up and moves the soaked cotton down her legs. He experimentally stroking a finger up and down her centre. Blue eyes trained on her face. Understanding her. Finding out what she likes. What she _loves_. What works and what doesn’t. Until he finds a rhythm that has her moaning between panted breaths, her hands screwing up into fists as her eyes squeeze shut and her body shakes from the inside out.

 

He sucks his fingers into his mouth, humming at the taste as she watches him with dazed eyes. He kisses his way back up her body, finding her lips again. Dainty fingers find the band of his own trousers, snapping them back against his hip bone. He snorts, raising an eyebrow towards her. She grins in response, giggling. He kisses her again, whispering against her lips _you have an evil streak, Betty Cooper._

 

Another laugh escapes her swollen lips remembering when he’d said just that on their first day of the trip, whispering back _and don’t you forget it._ He leaves her on the bed, feet finding the carpet to rid himself of the clothing. Standing in nothing but his boxers and he can’t take his eyes off her. She licks her lips, nodding towards his boxers as if to say _it’s only fair_. So they come off too. Giving her the first look at him and she thinks he’s just as beautiful as he was that night by the sea.

 

He joins her back on the bed, allowing her to explore him as he had her. Until he’s asking for a final time.  _Are you sure?_

 

She smiles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Nose to nose. _Never been more sure of anything._ As he enters her, they become one and everything in the world seems right.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Despite only having a few hours’ sleep, Betty feels lighter and happier than she has in months. So they repack the car and head across the Scottish border towards their second to last destination, before they head back down South for Christmas. They’d discussed doing more travelling after Christmas, the possibility of Ireland or even some of the Isles off the coast. But that was a discussion for another day, they were enjoying the here and now.

 

The drive isn’t substantial and they manage to make it to their hotel in Edinburgh, just as the sun is beginning to set behind the castle. Being late November, the Christmas markets have already been erected around the city. It makes Betty feel warm and fuzzy inside, she loves Christmas.  

 

They leave their suitcases in the room, adding a few more layers to their person prior to heading out to explore. There’s a Ferris Wheel featuring a dazzling array of blue and purple twinkling lights. Accompanied by a golden carousel, a yellow and red Helter Skelter as well as, a scary looking ride with seats dangling from chains as it spins from sixty metres in the air exuding all the colours of the rainbow. These are all surrounded by the clusters of wooden stalls, embellished with tinsel and lights, selling handmade food and trinkets to the visitors.

 

Jughead buys her a crepe, that leaves chocolate around her mouth. But he’s more than willing to kiss it off. He finds a stall selling music themed posters, so buys one for Archie. Betty finds a stall with festive themed dog treats, she’s confident Vegas will love. They wander around until they happen upon an ice rink, bringing a smile onto Betty’s face and Jughead’s own features to pale underneath his knitted scarf.

 

“No. Absolutely not.” He’s already saying it before she’s even had chance to turn around at look at him. Having already seen her cheeks lift from his spot behind her.

 

She turns, expressionless. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“You don’t fool me, Betty Cooper. I know what game you’re playing.” He declares, emphasising his point with a gesticulating finger in her direction.

 

She exhales sharply through her nose. “But, why not?”

 

He groans. “I’ll just embarrass myself. If I need a stick for walking on solid ground, who knows what will happen when I’m wearing _blades_ on _ice_.”  

 

“I thought you weren’t going to let _it_ stop you doing things?” She queries, hoping to sway him.

 

His eyebrows crease, but he’s hiding a smile. “I don’t want to do this; _you_ want to do it. If anything this will probably bring me closer to death! Blades, Betty! Blades!”

 

She snorts, smiling at his happiness. She closes the space between them with her arms strung across each of his broad shoulders. Leaning in to press kisses against the freshly shaved jawline up to his ear. She breathes softly against the shell, whispering. “Please, Juggie.”

 

His breathing stutters and she can almost feel his irregular pulse ricocheting around his body. “Fine.” She pulls back to look at his flushed face, a grin evident.

 

“Just because it’s you. But just so you know, you can only use that trick like a couple times a week.”

 

She kisses his chin. “Is that so?”

 

“I can’t let your head get too big.”

 

“Obviously not. Might get as big as yours.” She beams up at him, lip caught between her teeth.

 

He places a kiss against her lips, dragging her lip from her teeth into his mouth. Leading kisses from there, up her cheek and against her ear lobe. Whispering in a low voice, that makes her shiver. “You didn’t seem to mind it when it was between your legs last night.”  She lets out a squeak, flushing from head to toe. He extracts himself from her embrace, walking towards the entrance to the ice rink. Beaming from ear to ear, he looks back.

 

“Yes, Cooper. Two can play at that game!”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

As it turns out, neither of them are naturals when it comes to ice skating. They spend the majority of the time holding onto each other for dear life, skirting carefully around the sides at a snail’s pace. Despite this, Betty's sure she's never laughed as hard in her life. Particularly finding enjoyment from the dance routine Jughead conducts using his cane and an imaginary top hat, only bettered by him nearly clocking a middle aged man in the face with said cane. Leaving him to return to the railing red faced and Betty bending double with hysterical laughter.

 

They both collapse into bed with sore feet and tired eyes and Betty thinks it can definitely go down as one of the best few days of her life. The following day, they wrap up warm because it's dropped below freezing and she knows full well Jughead can't risk catching anything. Chuckling happily when she finishes her handiwork, leaving only his eyes visible beneath the hat and scarf. Their first talk at the University is not until lunch time giving them ample opportunity to look around. So they take a different route round, along the cobbled streets and passing by the castle.

 

Making their way around the numerous buildings containing museums, old artefacts and finding the opportunity to take a silly photograph or two with the many canons positioned around the outer wall. It also gives them the chance to take in the view of Edinburgh from a height. Betty thinks it's perhaps even more breathtaking than the view of London and doesn't hesitate coercing Jughead into another photograph.

 

He mentions something about the selfie in London being a 'one-time deal' but cuddles up to her all the same, smiling for the camera. As she turns back to the castle, she can't help but reminisce about the games they played as children, playing with their imaginations. Pretending they were somewhere this grand instead of her back garden in the South of England.

 

\---------------------------------------------

_They would play games after school. The kind of games that would require a stealth trip to Polly’s room to raid the drawer that held all her dance costumes. Wrapping themselves in glittered tunics, sequined sashes and fluffy boas, prior to disappearing into Betty’s playhouse at the end of the garden._

_It would usually be a game of Kings and Queens, because Jughead already had his crown. Betty fashioned one of her own from the daisies that grew in her back garden, away from Alice’s prying eyes. They would stand surrounded by the pink and purple plastic walls, Archie would ‘marry’ them wearing a fluorescent green blazer that Polly had once worn to perform a peculiar rendition of Bugsy Malone._

_Following the brief ceremony, where Jughead would always kiss her on the forehead, they chased each other round the garden. Until their faces would turn beetroot red, sheened with sweat and be called inside for a healthy meal prepared by Alice. Escaping after to the Andrews house to eat the sweet treat on offer that day and watch the sun go down._

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

The university is nice and she could definitely get on board with spending three years living in this city. She says it's a solid seven and a half. Still conscious of the distance from Jughead. Which she tells him as much and he doesn't point out that it may not matter. Because now he knows she knows and it’s her decision to make.

 

Instead he squeezes her hand and discusses how one of the speakers resembled Michael Caine, which has her giggling into her cup of tea. They didn't discuss half points, so after some careful thinking on Jughead's part he decides it's on par with Grandma Andrews' Christmas cake that she brings every December. It’s a great Christmas cake.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

The day after, they say goodbye to Edinburgh and make their way across to Glencoe. Marveling at the scenery as they pass through Loch Lomond National Park. Greenery dulled by the frost, making the air crisp and wind punishing. Intermingled with the harsh grey rocky face of the hill tops, dispositioned by the cool blue water of the Loch sparkling in the winter sun.

 

Glencoe itself is a vision of green and purple, as the last of the moorland floor plantation dies off for winter. The trees appear sparse as the last of the reddened leaves are dropping off. The mountain tops are already covered with a smattering of snow, making it look as though they’ve been dusted with sugar. Like crystal shimmering under the sun as it begins to lower and darkness creeps into the light.

 

The inn their staying at is placed in amongst it all, giving them an incredible view of the roving hills and the effect of winter on the environment. The bottom floor of the inn is made up of a reception area for those staying in the rooms above, accompanied by three bars each designed to have a distinctive and individual décor and character.

 

The first is said to be popular with the walkers around the area. It has a large fire place, rough slate flooring and a tree trunk set in the middle that appears to be part of the structure. The second is set directly next to the first. Named ‘the snug’ for it’s quiet atmosphere giving people an opportunity to escape the ruckus and chat the night away. It has pine paneling that gives it a cosy feel and Betty definitely prefers it to the first. The third bar is the most modern of all them. High tables accompanied by leather stitched chairs in an open seating area, separated only by bric-a-brac screens with the theme of mountaineering.

 

Their room has a similar homely feel. A chocolate brown carpet, not dissimilar to the colour of the suede-effect headboard. Secured to a wooden bed frame, covered in fresh white sheets and tartan cushions. There’s a small television, that seems the optimal distance from the bed for nighttime viewing. With the addition of a desk, that they probably won’t use and light wood bedside tables. They spend the evening downstairs in the snug, before curling up in bed in a cocoon of each other’s warmth.

 

The next morning, they dress up warm and after breakfast take one of the ‘easy’ walks they’d been suggested by the reception yesterday. It takes them through a wintry woodland with sparse trees and brambles, divided by a hard mud path that’s somewhat slipping underfoot from melted ice that settled overnight. Jughead stops a few times to cough into his handkerchief and wipe some blood from his lip. He nods in a way that says _I’m ok._ She doesn’t spiral, because she trusts him and he trusts her. They’re a team.

 

They come out onto a bustling stream, swelling over the rocks that lay beneath the surface. It’s flanked by similar rocks and a grassy verge. Bodies tired from the physical activity and faces sufficiently reddened from the cold wind, they take a break.

 

“Can you believe this is almost over?” Betty asks, watching the water flow. It’s hard not to feel some element of sadness that the trip was coming to an end. But she’s excited to return home and spend her first Christmas with Jughead as a couple. Sadness and happiness going hand in hand just like she said.

 

He presses a kiss against her cold cheek. “It’s not the end, Betts. Just the end of this particular chapter. I’ve got a feeling the next one is going to be good.”


	8. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter being a while coming guys, just started uni again for my masters and it is well and truly kicking my arse! But I did it and it's a big bugger, I hope it's good and I hope you like it. 
> 
> See the end notes for the songs I used! All classics that you have to listen to at least once!
> 
> Also! Leaalda on tumblr made a super awesome poster for this fic and it made me feel like a rockstar so check it out!

As December rolls around, bags are packed and the car is refilled to make the trip back down South. It’s not feasible to complete the drive all in one day. So Jughead drives the first portion, stopping off in Manchester. There they meet up with Archie and Veronica. Archie greets them with a large smile and the typical bear hug, whispering “I missed you two lovebirds.” They both receive an equally tight hug from Veronica. Leaving Betty in a fit of giggles, as Jughead pulls an odd face at the intrusion of his personal space. He awkwardly pats Veronica on the back and tries his best to not stare intently at her eyebrows.

 

They spend the night in another chain hotel, neither of them willing to sleep on Archie’s floor. There’s more than a few questionable stains that they certainly weren’t comfortable asking about, never mind laying on. The following day they fill the car up, including their redhaired friend and continue the journey back home. Veronica set to join them after Christmas to spend New Year’s with Archie. With Archie up front to have command of the radio, Jughead takes the opportunity to stretch across the back seats.

 

 _I'm the trouble starter, punkin' instigator._  


Jughead cracks one blue eye open, catching Betty’s gaze in the rear view mirror as he goes in search of the interruption. “I didn’t realise we’d travelled back in time twenty years. I must have been asleep for ages.”

 

_I'm the fear addicted, danger illustrated._

 

Archie blows out his cheeks. “Betty likes it, don’t you?” Betty’s eyebrows raise, keeping her eyes on the road. Jughead thinks it’s probably more to avoid answering Archie, than anything else.

 

“Fine. I’ll find something else.” He goes back to scrolling through his phone, allowing Jughead to get a few minutes of peace.

 

_I woke up today with this feeling._

Jughead’s forehead creases. “No.” Betty snorts.

 

_That better things are coming my way._

 

“Why?” Archie retorts, voice high. He turns round in his seat to look at Jughead.

 

_And if the sunshine has a meaning._

 

Jughead’s eyebrow quirks. “Do I look like a teenage girl from the early 2000’s?” Archie exhales sharply, twisting back to face the front of the car. The noise of him scrolling filling the air again.

 

_When the world, leaves you feeling blue._

_You can count on me, I will be there for you._

Jughead frowns. “Please refer to my previous statement.” Archie looks towards Betty for support, only to find her biting her cheek in attempt to keep herself from laughing.

 

“This whole you two being together thing, really has some negatives.”

 

Betty grins, eyes flicking to the passenger seat. “We’ve never agreed with your music choices, Archie.” His nose crinkles in reply, but he can’t hide the small smile on his face that always comes from spending time together. Jughead closes his eyes, enjoying the quiet.

 

Not a minute later, he finds himself being woken up again. “I’ve found something that I think will appeal to us all.” Archie exclaims excitedly. Jughead braces himself as the tune begins to play through the car speakers.

_One, Two, One, Two, Three, Go!_

Jughead’s stomach drops as he recognises the song. “Oh god.”

 

_Clap your hands._

Archie turns in his seat again, grinning menacingly. “I knew you’d like it!”

 

_Sleep._

“This is all the childhood memories I try to forget.” Jughead states, making Betty laugh loudly from the driver’s seat as she overtakes a slower car.

 

_Wave your hands._

“This moment right here, this is worse than the illness.” He declares, watching as Archie starts to dance along with the commands.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Despite the changes that had occurred, being home for Christmas gives him an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. He still spends his days with Archie and Betty, watching Christmas films, attempting to bake gingerbread that they burn more than once. Vegas enjoys the crispy leftovers. What he loves even more, is when they take him to the field found behind Archie’s house to walk off the copious amount of burnt biscuits. Although Jughead can’t make it all of the way this year, he still finds joy from seeing the yellow Labrador bound across the frosty grass without a care in the world determined to locate the biggest stick.

 

When Jughead mentions to Fred that him and Betty are now together, the wrinkles in his forehead deepen slightly. Then with a shrug of his shoulders, he says “I thought you kids were already together.” Swiftly going back to dishing out their dinner for the evening, a small smile on his face gracing his lips. Alice on the other hand, just simply nods when Betty tells her. Which she supposes is a victory in its own right. Her mother who would quite happily rant and rave until she’s blue in the face, having nothing to say on the matter. It was her way, the Alice way, of saying she’s happy for them.

 

Something that does change is that he has to give in and take to using oxygen full time. He’s not irritated in the way he would have been before. Instead he accepts it because he knows it’s necessary and if it means he’ll be here for longer, be with Betty for longer. He’s sure he’d try anything. Because of this, he can no longer scale the side of Betty’s house as he once could. So they spend most nights in Jughead’s bed. Which doesn’t matter much to them, as long as they’re together.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

 One of the Christmas traditions that Jughead loves, is the task of putting up the tree. They never get a real one. The one time they had, it died within a few days. Fred having forgot to give it any water. It always starts with Fred disappearing up the loft banging his head on the beams at least three times. He then finds the Christmas tree they no longer use, but will never throw away. Ending the suicide mission by slipping on an old board game, more often than not the scrabble board. It was unusually stick after Archie spilt jam on it many years ago. After locating the correct tree at the back of the loft then comes the job of attempting to manoeuvre it through the small hole and down the steps, which is a whole other story.

 

The second step of putting up said Christmas tree, usually involves just as many problems. More parts from the tree seemed to go missing each year, leaving it looking somewhat naked. But as Fred always said, “Tinsel covers a multitude of sins.” Then came the addition of baubles. The three of them had broken so many, that Fred no longer allowed them to use glass ones. Especially after Jughead had cut his foot the first year he lived with them, he’s still got the scar. The last part of the process was to find out which set of lights still work and adding the weird looking angel to the top of the tree. It looked like cherub equivalent of Nicholas Cage.

 

“So what have you got me for Christmas?” Jughead asks, as he hands another plastic bauble to Betty to add to the lopsided tree. They’d tried their best to make it stand straight. It seemed to want to tilt to the left, no matter what they did.

 

She smiles, stepping back to survey their work. “You know I can’t tell you that, Juggie.”

 

He adjusts the plastic tube under his nose, pulling himself to standing. He wraps an arm around her waist closing the gap between them, pressing a kiss against her nose and then her lips. “Maybe I could _persuade_ you?”

 

“Persuade me? I’d love to know how you’re thinking of doing that.” She replies, playing coy. A grin finds her lips when he leans down to press a kiss against the spot that always makes her gasp and shudder, leading up to her find mouth. He parts her lips with his tongue savouring the taste of her.

 

They’re too focused on each other to notice Archie’s re-entrance to the room, carrying a box of spare decorations. He clears his throat, a knowing smirk on his face. “I located the creepy angel, if you two are ready to stop sucking face.”

 

Jughead pulls back with a wide grin, unaffected by Archie as he strokes his thumb across Betty’s slightly flushed cheek. “Hand me Nicholas Cage, then.”

 

Archie digs in the box to find the angel, passing it over to watch Jughead place it on top of the tree. He nudges Betty. “You’ll have him needing a new oxygen tank in no time, if you carry on like that.”

 

She shoves an elbow into the redhead’s stomach, blushing furiously. “Shut up, Arch.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Another tradition they always followed, was exchanging presents on Christmas Day. Betty was always required to spend the day at her house. Polly would travel from where she lived with Betty’s nephew. She’d moved there after she’d given birth, needing the separation from her mother and the independence that came with it. Betty could understand. Her grandparents would come from their home further North to eat with them, give them their presents of slippers and new socks before falling asleep in front of the television watching the Queen’s speech. It was pleasant. But that was it. Not special, not memorable, just pleasant enough to get by.

 

Jughead’s Christmas was always special. He, Archie and Fred would wake up late because they had nowhere to be. They spend the morning in front of the television watching old Christmas music videos as they open their presents. Grandma Andrews would always arrive to find them still in their pyjamas, infamous Christmas cake in hand. She’s a plump woman, who always smells like flowers and gives very fierce cheek kisses.

 

Fred then cracks on with the dinner, which is always superb. He really knew how to make the best roast potatoes. Jughead isn’t hungry and doesn’t manage to eat much, but he’d walk a long way just for one of Fred’s roast potatoes and a slice of Grandma Andrews’ Christmas cake. She leaves just as it gets dark outside. Exiting with another cheek kiss for each of them, that Jughead is sure will leave an imprint. Fred falls asleep in front of the television, half eaten cake resting on his bloated stomach. It didn’t sound special, but to Jughead it was. Because he knew full well what it was like to not have this, a family unit and he savoured every moment.

 

Betty comes over later that evening and they spend the evening watching the Christmas special of Strictly Come Dancing, which Jughead only manages to see half of. The rest of the time is spent staring at the back of his eyelids. He’s woken up by the comforting feel of Betty’s lips on his forehead, as the credits roll on the television. Archie gets up from his chair to help him from the sofa with Betty’s aid, carrying his oxygen tank up the stairs behind him. While Jughead grips onto Betty, taking the stairs slowly towards his bedroom. He’d probably feel pathetic if it was anyone else, but it’s just what they do for each other.

 

Archie loves the music poster Jughead got for him, racing out the room to pin it above his bed. In return he receives a S Club 7 CD, which Archie will probably laugh about for at least a few hours. Betty gives Archie a new guitar pick personalised with his name, after he’d mentioned he’d lost his other. She gets a scarf and a citrus scented candle which he readily admits Veronica helped him choose. Last Christmas he got her a Justin Bieber poster as a joke, so she suspected as much.

 

Archie collects his presents in his arms ready to go to his own bedroom. “Well I’m tired out.” He winks exaggeratedly in Jughead’s direction, who rolls his eyes. “So I’ll leave you two _alone_. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

 

Jughead snorts. “That’s not a very long list!” He laughs as Archie’s arm appears back round the door frame, middle finger up. He looks to Betty, perched on the end of his ( _their)_ bed. Smiling happily as she sniffs at the candle. slightly pink in the face from the heating and the scarf she’s got wrapped around her neck. Even though he always knew it, sometimes it struck him hard, right in the middle of the chest just how beautiful she was.

 

She looks up at that moment to find him watching her and grins wider. “Alright, stalker. I’m ready for my present.”

 

He pretends to be hurt by her statement, smirking. “Who said I’ve got you anything.”

 

She smirks back, playing along. “Then I guess I won’t give you your present then.”

 

“Well when you put it that way…” He shuffles off his bed, unsteady on his feet without the cane, to find the wrapped present. He locates it in his chest of drawers, under a pair of socks that he doesn’t remember owning and turns back round with it in hand. Finding Betty now holding an expertly wrapped gift on her knees. The candle she’d been holding, perched precariously on the wooden bed frame.

 

He thrusts it towards her awkwardly, feeling suddenly nervous. They’d given gifts before. On birthdays and Christmas, even the odd random gift of lemon sherbets just because he knew she loved them. But he’d never given her a gift as his girlfriend, it was a display of his love for her out in the open and he didn’t want to get it wrong.

 

She grasps it, smiling and some of his nervousness dissipates. She unfolds the paper carefully, because no daughter of Alice Cooper would ever rip open a gift willy-nilly. It reveals a small leather jewellery box. She looks up at his questioningly as he dances from swollen foot to swollen foot, nodding at her to continue. So she does. She flicks open the box and gasps.

 

It’s a silver pendent necklace that shines even under the dim light of the bedroom lamp. She picks it up carefully, tilting it to read the engraving. _Worry gives small things a big shadow._ She smiles, a lump lodging in her throat. Her thumb runs across the back of the metal finding the tell-tale indentations of another engraving on the back. She flips it over. _I love you, Betts. Forever Yours, Juggie._ She swallows hard, a stray tear escaping her eye as she pulls the necklace from the box.

 

He’s looking at her expectantly. She stands beaming up at him as her eyes glisten, holding the necklace out to him. “Put it on me.”

 

He smiles in reply, taking the chain from her hand. She turns and watches the necklace appear over her head, the metal tickling her neck and then a pair of soft lips brushing against the top of her spine.

 

“Merry Christmas, Betty.”

 

Betty grasps the pendant between her fingers, smiling down at it as she feels a kiss against her ear. “Merry Christmas, Juggie.” She spins to press a soft kiss against his lip, the plastic of the tube under his nose rubbing against her face. She doesn’t mind.

 

“Now it’s your turn.”

 

She makes a beeline for the bed where the present lays, patting the covers next to her indicating to him to sit down and he does. The present she hands him is a reasonable sized rectangle, perfectly wrapped with golden ribbon that curls in just the right way. He rips into it much less precisely than her, making her laugh. Underneath the paper is a leather bound book. He flicks his eyes too her and she nods motioning to open it, just like he had with her gift. When he opens it, he finds himself staring at a picture of the two of them. The pages are filled with pictures of him and Betty from their trip, mingled with ones taken of the scenery, particularly amusing road signs or animals that Betty couldn’t resist snapping a photo of.

 

He opens his mouth and closes it again. “Betts…this is…”

 

She bites her lip and crinkles her nose, chuckling anxiously. “I hope the lack of words is a good sign!”

 

He nods rapidly, looking up at her and down back at the photos not quite comprehending the gift. “I love it.” Because he’s never received something like this. Something that displayed someone’s love for _him_. The thought makes his stomach flip.

 

Her hand squeezes his, pressing a kiss against his warm cheek. “I love you.”

 

He smiles, taking her lips in a slow and sweet kiss that makes them both dizzy. “I love you too.” Yet even that doesn’t feel like enough to describe how he feels about her.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Veronica arrives the day after Christmas, grinning excitedly as they pull onto the driveway. Vegas gives her the true introduction, barking loudly at her then licking up her cheek happily. They eat leftover turkey sandwiches and play monopoly on the dining room table, while Fred’s snores echo from the room next door having fallen asleep in front of the television again. Vegas sleeps across Veronica’s feet already quite besotted with Archie’s new girlfriend.

 

That night Betty wakes to an empty bed, sheets seeped in sweat that’s not her own. She finds Jughead in the bathroom down the hall, pallid skin and damp hair stuck to his forehead, as he leans into the toilet emptying the contents of his stomach. Her own stomach swirls with anxiety.

 

She bends down, stroking the wet curls away from his face to press a kiss against the clammy skin. “It’s ok, Juggie.” She rubs his back soothingly, using a tissue in the other hand to wipe blood from his lips. She kisses his ear, then crawls across the floor to rifle through the bathroom cupboard in search of the thermometer, she knows is in there. He doesn’t object when she sticks it haphazardly into his mouth, eyes going crossed attempting to read the result.

 

The results are as she anticipated, another fever. The pit of anxiety in her stomach swells. “I’m going to wake up Fred and Archie, ok? But I’ll be right back.”

 

Betty stands to leave, when a sweaty palm grabs at her hand. “Don’t go.” His voice is hoarse from lack of use. Her heart cracks at the sound. She presses a kiss against the back of his hand. “I promise I’ll be right back, alright? You won’t even notice I’ve left.”

 

He smiles tiredly. “I always notice when you’re not around, Betts.” She squeezes his hand in reply. Her fingers finding the necklace she’d not taken off since he’d put it around her neck, the pattern of the engraving soothing under her skin. The carpet of the landing is soft under her feet as she moves towards the familiar door of Archie’s room, she can almost hear the noise it makes as her bare feet brush against it. She doesn’t usually bother knocking. They’ve been friends too long for that, but with Veronica sleeping in there too she thinks it’s probably best. So she knocks and waits. Nothing happens. She knocks again. Slightly harder as her knuckles rap against the wood, aware she’s trying to wake him but feeling the need to be quiet at the odd hour. This time she hears a shuffling behind the door and then the creaking of the old door opening, to reveal a dishevelled Archie.

 

He blinks, adjusting to the light cascading onto the landing. When he realises it’s Betty, he straightens. His hand reaching up to tug at his hair.

 

“Do you need me to get my dad?” She glances back to the bathroom door, still ajar and nods.

 

As the darkness of the night creeps into dawn, Betty and Veronica witness Fred and Archie carrying an unconscious Jughead out of their house towards the car. Betty’s sure none of them will be able to get that picture out of their head for the rest of their lives. He’s admitted to hospital indefinitely under the pretence of administering palliative care and Betty feels bile rise in her throat.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

She stays with him. They set up a camp bed for her in his room. She doesn’t use it. His bed isn’t big enough for two people but it doesn’t stop her climbing up there with him, trying to manoeuvre around all the wires he’s connected to.

 

He looks small in his bed. Frail and tired. His eyes are sunken, surrounded by dark circles and dry, cracked skin that you can see the veins and arteries through. Pumping blood to a heart that’s weakening by the second. A distended abdomen and swollen legs filled with fluid that makes it difficult for him to get out of bed at all. His voice is always scratchy from the coughing. He still chats but mostly he enjoys just watching them. Listening to them while they talk about anything and everything. He smiles a lot, still. Mostly when Betty’s there and she smiles back. Just because she accepted the possibility of this happening, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her. It hurts like a knife to the heart and everyday someone twists it deeper.

 

“Veronica and Archie are here, Juggie.” They’ve come every day since he was admitted but he doesn’t always remember, often in and out of medication induced sleep. She doesn’t leave him if she can help it. Only when other people are visiting and only ever leaving for short periods of time. To shower in his washroom, shovel a sandwich down her throat that only tastes like dirt clogging her throat. She’s never hungry.

 

He licks his dry lips, one eye peeking open to look around the room. “Yeah?”

 

She stands, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Yeah. I’m going to have a shower; I won’t be gone long.”

 

His other eye opens and he grins tiredly. “Good. I thought I could smell something off.” Betty slaps him delicately on the shoulder, nodding towards Archie in their silent agreement to watch over him as she disappears into the bathroom.

 

Archie snorts. “Always the charmer, Jug.”

 

He winks. Or tries to. It’s more of a weird blink. He moves to look at Veronica, who’s now sat where Betty had previously been. “Have you brought me a balloon?”

 

She chuckles, gesturing to a red balloon floating behind her. “That one.”

 

Jughead squints. “If it says _get well soon_ , you’ve got a sick sense of humour.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“Do you want to play a card game, bud?” Fred asks, watching Jughead’s eyes flutter open and closed. He was tired today and every other day.

 

He shakes his head. “Not really.” Eyes closed.

 

Fred looks down into his bag for options. “What about if I read to you, I brought Harry Potter.”

 

Eyes open. “All of them?”

 

Fred smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way Jughead liked. “All of them.”

 

He coughs. “Only if you promise to make up a voice for each character.” Eyes closed.

 

“Is there any other way to do it?” Fred queries, fishing the Philosopher’s Stone out the bottom of the bag and flicking to the first page. He rests the book against his crossed legs, gripping Jughead’s hand in his own. “Chapter one…”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Alice visits to bring her clean clothes. She doesn’t say a lot, instead taking Jughead’s dirty pyjamas with Betty’s worn clothes to wash them. Betty knows that’s her way of saying she wishes this wasn’t happening. This small boy she’s seen grow up is dying and it’s tearing them all apart. She loves him too, in her own way.

 

“Betts?”

 

She turns her head from the television to look at him. “Yeah, Jug?”

 

“Will you just hold my hand for a bit?” He likes holding her hand. She doesn’t care if it’s clammy or ice cold or even if it was covered in slime, because it’s him. Her Juggie.

 

She interlaces her fingers with his. A rush of calm warming her body. “Of course.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

On New Year’s Eve they decorate his room. He can’t help but he’s happy observing as they string up bunting, don party hats and add to the collection of balloons he’s already accumulated. He doesn’t even mind when Veronica places a neon orange party hat on top of his head, effectively strangling him with the elastic string. Betty brings polaroid cameras to catch the evening from all points of view, he’s content to lay back and watch her smile and laugh at Archie’s music choices, Veronica’s inability to play Trivial Pursuit and the silly faces he pulls whenever she turns the camera on him.

 

He kisses her when the clock strikes midnight, whispering lovingly in her ear. “Happy New Year, Betts.”

 

She cuddles further into his side on the hospital bed. “Happy New Year, Juggie.”

 

They stay up a little while longer after Archie and Veronica disappear back to the Andrews house, watching the fireworks play out across London on the television. He presses a chapped lip kiss against the crown of her head.

 

“What’s been your favourite part of the year?”

 

She tilts her head back to look up at him. “Anything involving you.”

 

“I’m sorry it’s not ending how you hoped.” He wanted more for them.

 

She shakes her head. “There’s no need to say sorry. It’s not how I hoped, but you’re still here. We’ve still got time.” But how much time did they really have. All these possibilities, what if’s and maybes they said were just that, were now becoming certainties and time was mocking him. The ticking clock seemed to skip ahead two hours whenever he looked at it and he couldn’t stop it.

 

He swallows hard. “I’m scared, Betty.”

 

“Me too.” There’s not much else to be said, they both know they’re losing the fight and all they can do is try and grasp at what’s left and hold onto it. Like they’re in the middle of the sea on a life raft with a puncture and they’re sinking. Waiting for someone to save them, someone to fill the cracks and keep them from drowning. Maybe he’s the useless bit of plastic, trying to keep Betty from going down with him. But she just seems to cling on harder and he can’t seem to let go either. Together until the end. For however long _their_ forever would last.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

On New Year’s Day, Betty and Archie leave him alone with Veronica to speak the Doctor alongside Fred. She brings Jughead another balloon, this time with a crown on and he tells her that one’s his favourite.

 

He watches it swing underneath the air vent, the gold of the decal glinting under the fluorescent light. “I think I should apologise for ruining your week with Archie.”

 

Veronica looks up from the newspaper she’d been updating him on. “It’s not your fault, Jughead.”

 

He wheezes into the oxygen mask. “You can call me Jug, if you want. Most people do.”

 

A small smile appears on Veronica’s face. “Well in the case, Jug. You can call me Ronnie.”

 

He nods. “Alright, Ronnie.”

 

She flicks the newspaper round to meet his eyes, it crinkles from the movement. She taps her manicured finger against a picture of some celebrities he doesn’t know the names of. “Now, Jug. Tell me, who wore it best Emma Watson or Lily Collins?”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“I think I’m going to die soon.” He can’t describe how he feels, if someone were to ask. But he knows. He’s still in that bloody life raft, with water up to his neck and he can feel the cold seeping into his bones.

 

Archie looks up the Chamber of Secrets, gnawing at his lips in the way that always shows he’s nervous. “Don’t say stuff like that, Jug.”

 

He’s treading water, but his arms are getting tired. “I feel guilty.”

 

Archie’s hand finds his. “For what?”

 

He shifts in his bed, trying to get comfortable. He never is. “Wanting to live. Me living means someone has died, someone’s husband or son or grandchild.”

 

Archie’s quiet for some time, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tries to find the right words. He looks up finally. “You should think of it as honouring their wishes. They wanted to donate their organs or it wouldn’t be happening.”

 

It’s true but Jughead still scrunches his nose. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel wrong.”

 

Archie licks his lips. “Give yourself a chance at the life you want, with who you want.” He wishes it were that easy. But nothing ever is. Water is invading his lungs.

 

“Alright.” It’s all he can think to say.

 

“Anyway you can’t go anywhere yet.” Archie begins, flicking the book open once more. “Because we’re only on book two and we’ve not even found out who opened the Chamber.”

 

He can breathe again, for now. “Ginny. She’s better in the books, they really butchered her in the films.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

It’s a Tuesday in January when he says it. The snow is thick on the ground outside the hospital and she can almost feel her toes going numb, just from the sight. Archie’s on the opposite side of his bed, socks wet from walking through the carpark. Jughead squeezes their hands lightly because he doesn’t have the strength for anything more. He looks to her like he’s staring into her soul, right at her cracked and broken heart and says it.

 

“I’m sorry.” _Sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you. Sorry for the time we don’t have. Sorry for leaving._

 

She squeezes his hand back. The lump wedged deep in her throat feels like the weight of a stone and she can’t breathe. “Don’t be.”

 

He blinks heavily, sucking on his dry lips. “Going to…close…my eyes for a bit.”

 

Betty nods, eyes glassy with tears unshed. She wouldn’t cry while he was watching. He hates seeing her cry. She can’t speak. Archie looks over at her, swallowing hard and it feels like daggers in his throat.

 

“Ok, Jug.”

 

“Three musketeers?” He asks, breathing laboured. Tired eyes following both of them.

 

Betty smiles weakly. “Three musketeers.” Tears finally making tracks down her cheeks as his eyes close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned in order:
> 
> "I'm the trouble starter, punkin' instigator. I'm the fear addicted, danger illustrated." - Firestarter by The Prodigy (if you've not heard it, I feel like you're missing out on an experience)
> 
> "I woke up today with this feeling. That better things are coming my way. And if the sunshine has a meaning." - Keep on Movin' by Five ( A true classic)
> 
> 'When the world, leaves you feeling blue. You can count on me, I will be there for you." - Reach by S Club 7 (Also a classic)
> 
> "One, Two, One, Two, Three, Go! Clap your hands. Sleep. Wave your hands." - Superman by Black Lace (If you're British and didn't have this at your discos you've missed out on a right of passage.)


	9. The End and A New Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! It's been so amazing writing this story and the response has been incredible. I'm sorry this is a little late but is hopefully worth it! I'm sure you'll see me again soon. Love, A.

_January_

Betty’s head is lulling to one side, the weight of it seeming too much of a strain on her neck. Green bleary eyes close, just for a moment. Messy hair, that’s well overdue to be washed, swinging into her eyes. Having forgone the usual headache inducing ponytail. It’s been a long few days and she’s exhausted. The continual beeping of the machines overhead, serving as the reassurance she needs to allow the precious few minutes of rest bite. Archie on the other side of the bed had fallen asleep long ago. His head now resting comfortably on Fred’s shoulder, both snoring like their life depends on it.

 

The sound of the bed sheets rustling wakes her. She opens her eyes, feeling as though she’s got led weights attached to her eyelashes. The crick in her neck is already setting in, despite being asleep for mere minutes. A pair of dazed blue eyes are watching her and her breath catches in her throat. Her stomach rolls as she shifts in her seat, which is more comfortable by far than what they had in the ICU.

 

Betty smiles. The way he grins back causes tears to cloud her vision. “Hey, you.”

 

His lips are dry and his voice is hoarse. She trips over her own feet to take the cup to his mouth, laughing slightly when he chases the straw with his teeth. He swallows, the liquid satisfying his thirst. Grateful he was now allowed to drink freely, after having the stomach tube removed a day earlier.

 

“Hey.” Betty strokes a hand through his matted dark curls. She makes a note to ask the nurse about the possibility of washing his hair.

 

“How are you feeling?” Her heart thuds in her ears, from the delight of speaking to him. To hear his voice. See his eyes open, being more awake than he has been in days since the operation.

 

He grimaces as he shifts again in the bed. “Pretty great.” She continues to stroke his hair.  “Do I look great? Because I feel great.”

 

Archie snorts, altering them to the fact he’s woken up. He moves in his chair to stretch his limbs, stiff from a less than satisfying sleep. “You look like you got run over.”

 

He smiles again, teeth sticking to his lips. “That’s exactly the look I was going for.”

 

When his eyes close again, panic does not rise in her throat and choke her. Instead she smiles, the rise and fall of his bandaged chest like calming waves on a sandy beach and the sun is hope, radiating down on them. They don’t need to discuss it now. They have all the time in the world to talk about what they’ve gone through, where they will go next. It’s unspoken but they both know they’re not drowning anymore.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

He meets the widow of the man; whose heart now sits in his body. He holds her while she cries and tells her he's sorry. She says he has nothing to be sorry for because life happens. She tells him he's suffered enough and her husband would have wanted this. To help some like him. She tells him to not let guilt hold him back and he feels some of it edge away.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_February_

 

He’s released three weeks’ post-surgery and it feels like he’s been in there for three years. Breathing in the stale air, in and out of sleep, the continual feeling of Betty surrounding him. The warmth of her presence making the air seem fresher, the sleep deeper and the recovery easier. He knows he have a long way to go. But this is a stepping stone. The stepping stone that opens everything up for them. Their future, their forever can be now.

 

He walks, albeit slowly, to the exit. But he’s working on it and a few days ago he wasn’t sure he’d be leaving in anything other than a wheelchair. The automatic doors open for them and he pauses on the pavement to take it in. It’s just a carpark to so many, but to him it’s the first step into the next stage of his life.

 

He looks to Archie, who’s patiently waiting for him to step off. “Will you take a photo of us?”

 

Betty’s forehead creases in response. “I look a mess, Jug.”

 

He shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. I want to add it to the album.” Betty’s heart squeezes at the sentiment. Suddenly not caring if she looks as though she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards, which she’s confident she does. Here in his arms she felt safe and happy, like she could take on the world and win.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Archie goes back to University after that, somewhat hesitantly. He still calls and texts every day. Leaving Betty as Jughead’s main carer, with Fred also back at work. But she is more than willing to help. They’re in the Andrews’ bathroom while he takes a bath. Which he’s still not entirely efficient at doing alone. Feeling as though she’s missing her left arm anytime she’s away from him.

 

“Does it look really horrible?” Jughead asks.

 

She squeezes out the washcloth, to take over the smooth skin of his back. “No.” She looks down to his chest. The skin is still irritated and purple where his incision had been, but it’s healing. She dips the cloth into the bath again. “Kind of makes you look dangerous.”

 

He looks down and smirks. “Like I’ve had a fight with a lion.”

 

Betty giggles, now focusing on the back of his neck. Taking the soaked fabric over the protruding bone of his spine. “I think there’s a few holes in that story.”

 

Jughead scoffs, eyes closing as he relishes in the sensation of the water against his skin. “Like?”

 

She shakes her head, smiling. “For starters, we don’t have lions roaming around in England.”

 

He catches her eye, grinning. “I could have been to the Zoo.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_March_

 

It’s a Sunday and he’s looking forward to Fred’s roast dinner. The sky is grey and he wakes with aching limbs. The weather is warming up and he discovers he has a fever. It’s a warm Sunday in March and he can see the grey clouds drifting from his hospital bed. He’s scared. Hospital food is a poor substitute for Fred’s cooking.

 

Betty’s with him and he can see the fear in her eyes. They had hoped he wouldn’t be back here. But he is and his body might be failing him once again. He’s used like a needle cushion, to extract blood from the veins that have been used so many times before. He goes for scans and the whirring of the machine is so familiar by now, that he almost finds it relaxing. He waits with his hand clutched tightly in Betty’s. The Doctor arrives. It’s a common cold. They attach him to antibiotics that drip slowly into his system, healing him.

 

That night they curl up on his too small hospital bed, whispering promises of love and devotion to one another. He strokes her hair away from her face, kissing the tears that streak her face. Joyful tears that he’s not going to leave her and and as much as he despises seeing her eyes fill with tears, this is something he understands. Something he also feels strongly. Something that soaks his eyelashes and has him tasting salty water on his lips. They feel like they can breathe again.

 

\---------------------------------------------

_April_

 

Jughead starts the day by waking up to find a pair of green eyes observing him and the warmth of a palm pressed against his chest. A habit that assured her he was still here, still with her.

 

He grins, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “How long have you been staring at me?”

 

She bites her lip, his voice still thick with sleep sending a shiver down her spine. Instead of responding she slides her leg over his hip to straddle him. She places a kiss against his forehead, his bedhead tickling her nose. Working her way down to his mouth, her tongue seeking his, making them both feel lightheaded. He groans into her mouth as they separate to give them time to breathe, panting into shared air.

 

Betty licks her swollen lips. Trailing kiss from his jaw to his ear to whisper, “Happy birthday, Juggie.” He smiles, kissing the side of her head as she continues the path down his neck. She grounds down onto the ever growing erection sat between her thighs, sending electric shocks through both of them.

 

She’s quick to tug at the bottom of his shirt, before relieving her of her own top. Savouring the feeling of his warm hands travelling up her waist, landing against the swell of her breasts. She whimpers as his thumb drags across her nipple, grounding down onto him again. He moans. “Eager, are we?”

 

She licks her lips, attempting to hold in the moan bubbling in her own throat. “Are you complaining?”

 

Jughead shakes his head, grasping her around the waist to flip her underneath him. He bites at her neck, licking to take the sting away. “Absolutely not.” It turns out to be the best birthday he’s ever had.

 

\---------------------------------------------

_May_

 

“So it’s between Oxford, Durham or Edinburgh?” Betty nods in response, watching him squint as he reviews the pros and cons lists she’s created. A list that she’d been debating over since February, when he’d suggested this is how she goes about deciding. She had debated putting it off for another year, with him still in the process of recovering. But Jughead had told her to trust him that this was her time, so she did.

 

“Oxford is closer.” Jughead makes a noise in agreement.

 

“But you liked Edinburgh more.” She nods again, worrying the skin of her lip between her teeth

 

Jughead smiles softly, reaching across to stroke his thumb across her lip. “Then I think you know your answer, Betts.”

 

She kisses the pad of his finger. “Is it too far?”

 

“Betty, even if you went to University on the moon it wouldn’t stop me coming to visit.” She pushes her laptop down to the foot of the bed, to cuddle into his side. He kisses the top of her head. “Of course I’d have to go to through some serious astronaut training. So I’d say Edinburgh is probably easier.” She giggles into his chest, palm splaying across where his heart sits.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_June_

 

With Archie finished at University until September and Veronica staying with him for the weekend, they decide to take a trip the coast like they did as children. They park the car and gather their towels and bags from the boot. Sandals flipping against the wood, as they make their way down the steps to the beach. The sand is already warm against their feet from the heat of the sun, beating down on them. Betty turns to survey the water. Deep blue and calm as it ripples against the shore. The back drop of the countryside, all leaves and greenery on dark grey rocks that is so familiar.

 

Jughead and Archie are quick to slip off their sweaty shirts and head straight for the water, immersing themselves in a game of dunking each other under the surface. Betty rolls out the beach towels, plonking herself down onto one and goes about rubbing sun cream into the areas her dress doesn’t cover. Proceeding to flick her sunglasses down from her head to shield her eyes from the UV rays. Obviously not using them to catch stealthy glimpses of her shirtless, wet boyfriend. So she says anyway, when Veronica smirks at her in that knowing way.

 

She must have dozed off after that, because the next thing she registers is the feeling being lifted into the air by a familiar set of arms. Her eyes shoot open looking for the culprit, finding Jughead’s face grinning down at her. Veronica’s giggling becoming distant noise as he carries her in the direction of water.

 

“Jug, put me down.” She tries to sound assertive, but it comes out jumpy as he manoeuvres across the uneven sand. She knows he’s heard her, when he chuckles but doesn’t respond. The sound of the water moving becomes louder and the sloshing of his feet submerging into the cool sea tells her what’s about to happen.

 

She tilts her head to see as they get deeper into the water. He comes to a stop and looks down at her, humour and mirth evident in his eyes. But he pauses for the briefest of moments just to check she was ok and despite knowing she’s about to be soaking wet through, seeing that makes her grin up at him. With that he plunges her into the cool water dress and all. His arms still gripping her tightly, leaving her in the water only for a second before bringing her back up.

 

He drops her legs allowing her to tread water. Keeping his arm strong around her waist, knowing she can’t touch the floor. He smirks as she takes off her sunglasses, now useless and dotted with water. “You looked like you needed to cool off.”

 

She tilts her head, biting her lip as she tries not to smile. Her arms coming out the water to flick it in his direction. “So did you.”

 

He beams at her, shaking his head like a dog. She squeals as water pelts her skin, silenced when he leans in pressing a wet kiss against her lips. She angles into him, arms wrapping round his neck to bring him closer. Archie’s throws his arms in the air, splashing more water around in faux annoyance.

 

“I can’t take you two anywhere.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_July_

 

He surprises her with a trip to Ireland for her birthday. They drive to Wales and then take the ferry to Dublin. It’s a warm summers day but the wind is bracing against Betty’s face, watching the body of water ebb and flow underneath the large boat. Once docked, Jughead navigates them to the hotel. It’s a dark brick building with black rimmed windows and an illuminated hotel sign, that reminds Betty of what you might see in New York.

 

The room itself is painted in a deep grey shade, with mustard curtains and chairs that sit at the end of the bed. The bed rests on a chevron wooden floor with a multi-coloured geometric rug, contrasting the black fabric headboard that looks incredibly soft. She almost tells him this is too much, just for her. But then she realises they deserve this and throws her arms around him in a tight hug instead, the feel of him smiling against her hair making her heart thud loudly in her chest.

 

They spend the day visiting all the museums, she’s had on her list since they first started discussing their trip last summer. Then take a picnic in St Stephen’s Green, surrounded by well-kept foliage, a fountain that small children are splashing in and the sound of ducks quacking from the nearby river. That night after returning to the hotel, they make their way up to the rooftop bar and sip virgin cocktails as the sun goes down over the city.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_August_

 

“The food choice on the buffet is abysmal.” Jughead declares, returning to their table that’s now mostly deserted apart from Betty, Archie and Veronica. Fred taking full use of the free bar. Being the season of weddings, it’s not surprising when they find themselves at one. More specifically the wedding of one of Archie’s distant cousins. Archie looks to the plate littered with an odd assortment of food, settling for the tiny egg sandwich that he can fit in his mouth whole.

 

He swallows, picking some cress from his teeth. “I’d need about ten of those to even make a dent.”

 

“Who said you could have it?” Jughead asks, eyebrows raised.

 

Archie snorts, the sausage roll now in his sights. “I saved you. No one should put cress in sandwiches anymore.”

 

Jughead’s quick to put the sausage roll in his mouth. “The sausage roll doesn’t have cress in it.”

 

Veronica laughs. “I thought you were healthy eating.”

 

“I’ll work it off with some dancing.”

 

“I’d pay to see you dance, Jug.”

 

“Then get ready to cough up, Archie.” He states, rising out of his chair. He holds a hand out for Betty, who raises her eyebrow in question. He nods and she takes his hand with a shy smile, following him to the dance floor. Jughead grips Betty round the waist, pulling her into him to sway in time to the music. Her arms come around his neck, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck in the way that always makes him shudder.

 

_'Cause all of me_ _  
Loves all of you_

 

“I’m going to ask you one day, you know.” He states, not quite catching her eye.

 

 _Love your curves and all your edges_ __  
  


Her forehead creases. “Ask me?”

_All your perfect imperfections_

 

He finally looks down at her, a flush creeping onto his cheeks. “To marry me.”

 

_Give your all to me_ _  
I'll give my all to you_

 

Her heart stutters at the thought. She couldn’t deny she’d considered it before and assumed it’d come at some point in their life. But to hear him say it made her stomach flip with exhilaration. The idea of the white dress, walking down the aisle to meet him, their first dance. Truthfully, she couldn’t wait.

 

She kisses him softly. “Just so you know, I’ll say yes.”

_You're my end and my beginning_ __  
  


He grins. “Well definitely have a better choice of foods at our wedding.”

_Even when I lose I'm winning_

 

Her chest flutters. “Definitely.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

_September_

“What are you doing exactly?” Betty asks, an amused look on her face after coming out of her new tiny en-suite to find Jughead laid out on her bed.

 

He makes another exaggerated movement, large booted feet hanging off the end. “I’m testing it out!” He shifts again to look at her. “I need to know what I’m getting into when I come to visit.”

She tuts, smiling as she steps over one of the many boxes containing her possessions that are littered around the small room. “Or you could be helping me unpack?”

 

He moves into a sitting position, grasping her hand puling her down onto the bed with him. Unconsciously curling her body into his. Betty looks up at him. “My mum won’t be too happy to find us like this.”

 

Jughead grins. “She’s gone to get lunch, I’m sure she’ll be gone a while.” Betty relaxes, moving further into his body. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, the sound of his breathing lulling her into sleep.

 

Jughead kisses her hair, waking her minutes later. “I told you, didn’t I.”

 

She hums. “Told me what?”

 

He kisses her again. “That this chapter would be a good one.” Betty smiles, leaning up to kiss his smooth chin.

 

“ _Our_ forever.”

 

He intertwines their fingers. “ _Our_ forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this story please feel free to leave kudos or comments, or both! I will love you eternally.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr - aisforr.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> Song - John Legend's All of Me (I know a little cheesy but weddings are kind of that way aren't they)


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